La Blue Wizard
by canoncansodoff
Summary: Multi-generational "James and Lily live" story. Harry Potter embraces both his Shikima and Welsh heritages while the magical world focuses on Daphne Greengrass, "The-Girl-Who-Lived." A H/multi fanfic that incorporates elements of "La Blue Girl".
1. Chapter 1 The Wet Nurse

**La Blue Wizard  
**a Harry Potter/La Blue Girl cross-over fic

**A/N:** This was born sparked by a plot bunny posted by hellishlord in the Seel'vor Yahoo Group. It deviates significantly from his idea though, so don't blame him if you don't care for this story line. Also, I'm not into manga/hentai, and have only picked up bits and pieces of the Shikima story from the Seel'vor group and wiki. There's near certainty that I'll muck up the "La Blue Girl" side of the story, so apologies to all hentai fans in advance. This story will stay firmly in the HP universe, with no current plans for Miko and her friends to make cameo appearances.

Finally, many of you may know that I've posted this WIP elsewhere. Over the past year, I've seen M-rated stories on this site that extend well beyond what I had thought that rating meant. Using those fics as a guideline, my earlier concerns about content appear quaint. So this is for those of you who might not have seen this on other sites...I've done a bit of nip and tuck to tone a few scenes down, but nothing major. The posting also gives the others a chance to refresh memories in advance of a major update, and gives me the chance to re-read, review and revise after having put the story on my back burner for most of a year.

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 1: The Wet Nurse **

It took a few moments for Emmeline Vance to remember why she woke up with a smile on her face. It was, after all, a miserably cold and wet December morning, and smiles had been in increasingly short supply as Voldemort and his Death Eaters ramped up the rate of their attacks.

"Oh, yes…how could I forget?" she thought to herself. "Tea with Lily this afternoon."

Looking at her bedside clock, the nineteen-year old witch decided that she could afford a few more minutes of lay-about. She snuggled back underneath her duvet, and wondered what her friend was doing right at that moment.

"_Something that I probably wish I was doing, no doubt," _she thought.

It had been far too long since her last get together with Lily. They had seen each other at Order meetings, of course, but that was all about the War. And their schedule rarely allowed time to meet otherwise...between Emmy's apprenticeship at the barrister's, and Lily's job doing whatever she did at the Department of Mysteries. And then there was Lily's year-old marriage to James.

James…now there was a perfect excuse for a smile on a witch's face and a damp spot on her knickers.

Lily's husband was, of course, part of the reason why the visits had dropped off…given everything that happened before their marriage, and the "accident" that had taken place just after the honeymoon. Ever since that day, James had been very careful to make sure that he was at work (or better still, out of town), whenever his wife invited any of her female friends over for tea. Not that Lily had ever blamed anyone for that unplanned orgy involving James, herself, and her three bridesmaids…these sorts of things were almost expected when you married a wizard with demonic heritage and a nearly-insatiable sex drive.

Almost.

Fingers that had crept towards her knickers on their own initiative suddenly seemed small and inadequate, as images flashed in sequence through her brain.

She needed her "Octo-Jimmy."

The wand kept under Emmy's pillow at night was quickly drawn, and pointed towards a blue flurry plushie that was sitting on top of her duvet. She touched the wand's tip to the stuffed octopus's head and sang the activation phrase.

"_I'd like to be…under the sea…"_

The magically charmed plushie animated in response. A smile grew on its face, two blue bull horns grew out of its head, and each of the eight tentacles began to extend in length.

Octo-Jimmy had been a gift from Lily, presented to all of her "special friends" on the night she announced her engagement, and declared that from that night forward, she alone would be meeting her future husband's "special needs." The present was a consolation prize of sorts…a reflection of both Lily's magnificent charms work, and James's magnificent appendages.

Emmy reached out to bring the toy closer to her chest, but it had other ideas. One of the tentacles wrapped itself around her hand and pinned it down against one corner of the bed. A second tentacle caught the witch's other hand and extended it out on the other side. The plushie then used these two points of contact to lift itself up into the air, so that its other tentacles could make quick work of removing both the covers and Emmy's knickers.

The now naked witch let out a moan of pleasure as arms darted out and wrapped themselves around each of her ankles. She spread and lifted her legs, helping the plushie do its work as it tied her feet to the front bed posts.

The four remaining limbs then reached down and made much more intimate skin contact. Two arms wrapped themselves around the base of her breasts and began to tease her hardened nipples. The final two found targets farther down Emmy's bared torso, and she cried out in delight at the double penetration.

Lily Evans Potter had first-hand knowledge of what made her good friend Emmeline Vance all hot and bothered. First-mouth knowledge as well, and all of that information had been programmed into "Octo-Jimmy". The toy knew just the right spots to tickle...just the right depths to plunge to…and just the right speeds to stroke. The results, therefore, were predictable and completely reproducible. Within minutes, Emmeline Vance was riding the crest of the first of multiple orgasms.

When the waves began to bunch together to form a nearly-continuous peak, and when every nerve ending in her body tingled in near-paralysis, Emmy shouted out the "safe word" that brought Octo-Jimmy back under control. Arms and legs were released, breasts were unwrapped, and points of penetration emptied.

As the sweat poured off of her body and she regained control of her breathing, Emmy reached down and petted the plushie that now sat on her stomach.

"Thank you, Jimmy," she hissed.

The charmed toy winked in response to the deactivation phrase, and went limp.

The witch pulled the plushie to her chest, squeezed her legs together, and rolled over onto her stomach. She praised Morgana...both for Lily Potter's skills as a witch, and for the source of her inspiration.

And not for the first time wondered just how truthful her friend Alice had been when she claimed to have stopped using her own "Octo-Jimmy" once she became Mrs. Longbottom.

**oo00OO00oo**

"So tell me, Miss Vance," Lily asked teasingly, as she poured the tea. "Have you met any hot wizards at the barrister's office?"

"Not really," Emmy sighed.

"Any hot witches, then?"

"Lily!"

"What?" the hostess asked with a sly grin. "It never seemed to matter much back at Hogwarts, did it?"

"No, it's just that...well, after James, it's been bloody impossible to find someone to fill my needs."

"Fill your needs, or just fill you?"

"Yes."

Lily snorted. "You haven't become addicted to your plushie, have you?"

"No, of course not," Emmeline said defensively. "So how about James and you...any problems meeting his needs?"

"No," the red-haired witch replied with a smile. "In fact, I may have done too good of a job of keeping my husband in a thoroughly shagged-out state."

"What do you..."

Emmeline looked at her friend's face and recognized a certain type of glow.

"Oh, Lily!" she said with excitement. "Don't tell me that you're...."

"Pregnant?" the witch replied, as she nodded and reflexively placed her hands on her stomach.

And there was much squealing, and hugging, and shed tears of joy.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you!" Emmy exclaimed. "What was James's reaction?"

"He's thrilled, of course."

"How far along are you?"

"Just six weeks."

"So is it a boy or a girl?"

"It's much too early to tell, even with magic."

Emmy nodded. "But can you tell if it will have...if it will take after James?"

Lily shook her head, and admitted that they had no idea if or when that could be determined.

"But surely this has happened before, right?" asked Emmy. "I mean...James?"

"Unfortunately, his parents have passed, and aren't around to say one way or the other," Lily replied. "We haven't found any information on who might have helped deliver him...it wasn't Poppy, and there just aren't any British Healers with expertise in prenatal care for partly-demonic newborns."

"Maybe not British, but Japanese?"

Lily shook her head. "That was one of the things we tried to find out during the honeymoon in Japan. I'm sure that there are Japanese ninja-midwives who could tell us, but the clans were very tight-lipped and most unhelpful when we made inquires."

Emmeline expressed sympathy and patted Lily's thigh.

"So what about Poppy?"

Lily nodded. "Madame Pomfrey was the one who confirmed my pregnancy, and she's already promised her help. She doesn't know what to expect with the pregnancy, but at least she's aware of James's condition."

"So what can I do to help?" Emmy asked. "Research? Organize a baby shower? Whatever I can do, just let me know."

"You might want to be careful issuing blanket offers of help, sweetheart."

"Why is that?"

"Because...well...don't know how I can ask..."

Emmeline noticed a blush growing on her friend's face.

"Oh, come on Lils," she said. "After all that you and I have been through...after all that we've shared...not to mention _whom_ we've shared..."

That last part had been added as a joke, but it appeared to have backfired when Lily bit down on her lip and a tear formed in her eye.

"Oh, Emmy, I'm so worried!" the pregnant witch cried. "I'm going to be so big, and ugly, and how am I going to be able keep James happy?"

Lily's friend reached out and pulled her close friend into a hug. "Hush, now...none of that. Have you expressed these fears to James?"

"Yes, and he says that he loves me, and I'll be even more beautiful, and he doesn't need anyone else, but..."

"So there you go."

"But that's not all," Lily said with a sniff. "What if it is a baby boy with James's heritage? What if he transforms inside of me, or right after he's born? He'll need more than mother's milk to keep his demon in check!"

These newly expressed concerns caused a good bit of confusion.

"But didn't James's first transformation take place when he turned sixteen?"

Lily nodded into her friend's shoulder and replied, "But that's not normal...his parents never mentioned his heritage while they were alive, but they left a note with their wills. There was a magical block placed on his demon-side until his sixteenth birthday."

"But why would his parents have done that?"

"Think about it, Emmy...think about what a part-Shikima needs."

"Oh, yeah...good point...once James turned sixteen he blended in with all of the other horny teen-aged wizards."

When Lily agreed, Emmy asked, "So wouldn't putting the same kind of block on your son work?"

Lily sighed, and sat back up in her chair.

"James doesn't want to even consider it."

"Why not?"

"There are some good reasons, actually...beyond James's comparison to what he called 'the barbaric Muggle practice of male circumcision'."

"Like what?"

"Well, first off, the block wouldn't eliminate the need to feed...it just delays it, creating all kinds of pent-up frustration and hunger that's released all at once when the block is removed. You remember what James was like those first few months, don't you?"

"Oh, yes…I remember," Emmeline admitted. "How could I, or Alice, or Carol ever forget?"

"Then you can understand how reluctant I am to have a child of mine go through a similar situation."

"Oh, I don't know, Lily...I don't remember you or James complaining too much back then."

"Stop it," the auburn-haired said with a bit of a scowl. "Even if that wasn't an issue, Poppy is fairly certain that James's block negatively affected his magic. He was, if you recall, rather unsteady with a wand during those first months."

"No, actually, I don't recall," Emmy said with a smile. "From what I remember, he spent far more time playing with all of his other wands. So did you."

"Well, even so...it was an issue. And there's a third point...how to explain to our child why daddy is a little bit...different?"

Emmy grinned, and quipped, "As well as explaining why Mummy and Daddy need five or six 'naps' each day?"

Lily's friend was busy laughing at her own joke, when a terrible thought came to mind. Her face paled, and she asked, "So if you're thinking about having a baby boy feeding, just like his daddy does...surely, you're not asking me to shag..."

"No, no, no...oh, Merlin, no!" Lily said with a severe shake of her head. "How could you even think that?"

"Well, that's how you keep James's demon side under control, isn't it?"

"Yes, but...it turns out that James doesn't have to be physically involved in producing the sexual energy that he feeds on."

"He doesn't?" Emmy asked sharply. "That's not what he told us back in school!"

Lily pursed her lips. "Yes, I am quite aware of that fact, and I was most displeased when I learned otherwise."

"How did you find out?"

"When I caught that that stray Death Eater hex, six months ago," Lily replied. "Remember how I was laid up and unconscious for a few days? When I first woke up, I expected James to be in a right state for not having fed."

"But he wasn't, was he?" Emmy asked. "I remember now...he was by your bedside, looking perfectly normal when you regained consciousness."

Lily nodded. "I wasn't very happy about it, and demanded to know who he'd fed off of...and that's when he explained that he didn't need to shag the women that were feeding him."

"He doesn't?"

"Doesn't have to be a woman, either."

"What?"

"I guess orgasmic energy is orgasmic energy, whether it's male or female...straight or gay..."

"And he can get that energy without shagging a person?"

"Apparently so...the energy sticks with a person for a while, and James can tap into it later on with a handshake, or other flesh contact. Says if the energy level is high enough he doesn't even need to touch a person...he can soak it in from the air."

"So when you were laid up in hospital...."

Lily chuckled. "Apparently, you and and more than a few other visitors to my bedside had energy to spare...and energy to share everytime you gave my husband a consoling hug."

"What? I wasn't trying to...those hugs were innocent...didn't realize...and how...not like I was shagging anyone at the time?"

"Not even Octo-Jimmy?"

Emily caught her breath. "Really?"

"Energy is energy, I gather...doesn't matter if you have help generating it...or not."

Lily's friend pursed her lips. "I do hope you punished your husband for this factual omission back at Hogwarts. I'm sure there was no shortage of wankers in the boys' dormitories."

"Oh, yes...he was punished most severely."

"Good," Emmeline declared. "So we were talking about how your lovable demon-baby might need to feed, right?"

"Yeah, we were," Lily admitted. "It is my husband's 'expert' opinion that his sexual skills are so well-developed that the orgasms he gives me deliver far more energy than he can absorb all at once. But even if that's true...there's no way that I'm going down that path. Far too Oedipal and icky to think about my baby benefiting from my getting off that way."

"But not too icky if your son feeds off of another witch?" Emmy asked. "Don't you think your son would be able to absorb energy just like James? Whenever somebody with leftover wanking energy touched him?"

"Dunno," Lily admitted. "And I'm not so sure we'd want our child handled by a lot of different people, especially given how dangerous it is out in public right now."

"So, you'd rather rely upon one specific person...somebody like me?"

"Well, Emmy, you have to admit...aside from being a close friend, you would be a reliable source of energy, right?"

"And what are you implying?"

"That I did a good job enchanting your well-worn and often-used plushie?"

"Oh...gah!" blustered Emmeline.

Lily took in a deep breath, and then expelled it. She was about to apologize for even asking such an embarrassing favor of her friend, before a wicked grin on that friend's face gave her pause.

"What's so funny?"

Emmy smiled and replied, "I just realized that you're asking me to be your wet nurse."

The pregnant witch frowned. "No, I am definitely planning on breastfeeding my children...it helps stabilize their magic, and helps their immune system, and helps bond with the parent, and..."

"No, no...I'm talking about a nurse who would need to be wet...someplace lower."

Lily's eyes went wide, and she slapped her friend's arm in disgust. Not that this disgust kept her from laughing out loud.

"Oh, Emmy...you are terrible!"

"But am I right?"

Lily was reluctantly forced to agree.


	2. Chapter 2 Not So Accidental Magic

**La Blue Wizard**

**A/N:** If you skipped over the introductory notes and warnings in the previous chapter, please go back and read them.

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 2 - Not So Accidental Magic**

_Four months later, in Lily's sixth month…_

Lily's close friend was in her flat one evening, soaking in her bathtub, when an urgent floo call from that friend's husband caught her attention.

"Emmy? Emmy are you there? Oh, Sweet Merlin, what do we do if she isn't?"

It was the tone of the immediately recognized voice that alarmed the young witch, and caused her to leap out of the bathtub (grabbing a towel along the way in afterthought).

"Just a second!" she called, as she rushed into the sitting room.

The shape of the wizard's head, as outlined within the embers, caused her to stop short.

"Is it…Lily?" she asked, staring at the horns that were popping through James Potter's messy head of hair.

Eyes went wide and nostrils flared within the embers when James got a good look at Emmy's bits (before they disappeared underneath the hastily wrapped towel).

"Oh, Merlin," he muttered, with a growling tone of voice that might have moistened Emmy's knickers, had she been wearing any.

"Just what is going on?" she demanded.

James closed his eyes and hissed out a deflating breath from his lungs.

"We need you to come over…right away."

"You want me to join you…while you're horny?"

"Yes."

"And does Lily know that you're asking this?"

"She's the one that's insisting on it."

Emmy bit her lower lip pensively. "So…where is she?"

"In the bedroom, with the door charmed shut."

"And why is that?"

"Because…well, she'll tell you, I'm sure."

"And...and will you behave yourself long enough for me to run from the floo to the bedroom?"

James bit his lip. Instead of asking, _"Do you really want me to behave?" _he slowly nodded.

"Might help if you throw on some robes first."

"Good idea," Emmy replied, as she dashed back into her own bedroom for her favorite Muggle terrycloth robe. After firmly tying the robe shut with a double knot, she grabbed a pinch of floo power and stepped through to Potter Manor.

Once there, she immediately realized that she'd made a big mistake…and hadn't asked James if he himself was wearing robes.

Because he wasn't.

Lily's husband had stepped back from the fireplace, and was standing naked on one side of the room…standing naked and _aroused_, as only part-Shikima James Potter could be aroused.

"Oh, bugger!" Emmy muttered.

"Hurry upstairs, or I'll take you up on that suggestion," James moaned, as his body extended itself out towards her.

The slightly damp witch nodded and danced just outside of James's multi-armed reach as she bounded up the stairs towards the master bedroom.

"Lily…it's me…Emmy…open the door!"

"Is that demon-spawned husband of mine out there with you?"

"No, but his bits are following close behind."

"Following close behind, or following your behind, Emmy?"

"Oh, Morgana…just open up!"

There was audible click to the door lock, and Emmeline quickly slipped inside. She then added her own locking charms to those Lily was recasting over her shoulder. Once the new arrival was reasonably certain that the door was secured, she turned towards the room's interior and gasped. The room was in complete disarray. Chairs and tables within the sitting area were upended, and wardrobe doors were hanging askew from their hinges. Bed linens and clothing were strewn about the room, and there was a large indentation within the wall opposite the bed. And sitting on that bed, which appeared to be Ground Zero for the blast zone, was a very naked, and very pregnant witch.

"Lily?"

The spread-legged woman began to cry. Her friend was by her side in a flash, and pulled her into a hug that required extra space for a bulging belly.

"Oh, Emmy…thanks for coming so quickly!"

"What's wrong, Lils?" her friend asked. "What happened?"

Two non-verbal clues had already given Emmy a good idea what had happened…the distinctive smell of her friend's arousal, and a very distinct kick to her midsection. She leaned back and looked down at the distended stomach.

"The baby…it's kicking?"

Lily nodded. "His name is Harry," she finally replied. "And he's doing more than just kick."

"So you know that it's a boy, then?"

The pregnant witch smiled through the tears and nodded as she reached out for her friend's hands. She placed one on the left side of her stomach, and the other on her right. When Emmy felt "kicks" in both places, she asked, "So it's kicking down and punching out at the same time?"

The expectant mother shook her head and pulled Emmy's face against her bared stomach. She tried not to focus on the smell of sex and the sheen of sweat that covered her skin. That focus was rewarded when Emmy felt something push against her cheek.

"Throw in a head butt at the same time as the kick and punch?" she asked.

Lily bit her lip and shook her head. "I can feel him pushing out in six or seven different places within the womb, all at the same time."

"So it's a boy baby…that's transformed just like James can?"

Lily smiled thinly and nodded.

"Oh, that's so amazing!" Emmy replied, as she looked up from her friend's belly towards her face. She snorted, and added, "Almost as amazing as the size of your baps!"

James's wife scowled, and she reached down to playfully tweak Emmy's nose.

"Hush, you."

"Well they are. And those nipples….Morgana, Lils, they're huge! And hard!"

"Comes with being pregnant."

"Doesn't make them any less sexy."

Lily snorted as she covered her breasts with one arm. The other made a sweep towards the dishevelment and said, "That what James thinks too, which is what led to all this."

Emmy bit her lip as she mused for a moment. "Well, I can't say that you two haven't left rooms looking like this before, after some of those legendary shags."

"But that is the problem," Lily replied. "James and I didn't do all of this…Harry did."

"Harry?"

Lily pointed towards her belly, then towards the hole in the wall.

"I'd call it his first bit of accidental magic, but the timing was no accident."

Emmy frowned, and asked her friend to start the story from the beginning.

"Well," the pregnant witch replied, "James was hungry, and more than a little horny…"

"That much I saw on the way upstairs."

"Yes, well...I was halfway through feeding him like I usually do. You know that Poppy has given us the all clear for vaginal sex?"

"Yeah, you said that she taught you a cervical cap spell that makes sure that James doesn't push in too deep?"

"Exactly…so I cast the spell, and James was gloriously working me over like you know he can do…hey, Emmy…are you listening?"

"Oh, yeah," her friend replied. "I was just remembering how James can gloriously work you over."

"Oh, Merlin, focus will you? So I wanted him close this time, so he had his willie stuffing me up front, and a tentacle working in the back, and…and he must have been pushing a little too hard, because on one of his synchronized pushes…Harry pushed back."

"Pushed back how?"

"With his magic," Lily replied. She pointed towards the wall and said, "The little bugger pushed back hard enough to send his daddy flying through the air!"

Emmy looked at the wall, then at Lily's crotch, and shook her head in wonder.

"Are you sure that it wasn't you, Lils?" she asked. "You said that pregnant witches can have their magic get wonky at times."

"No, James' bits were right where I wanted them to be...it was definitely the baby," Lily declared. "But that was just the start…right after James dented the wall, Harry began to kick….kick with more than his hands and feet."

"Are you certain?"

Lily sighed, and nodded her head. Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes began to tear up again. "He's transformed, I just know it."

Emmy took in her posture, and decided to give it a boost. She crawled up onto the bed, and scooted behind Lily so that she could wrap her arms around her belly and pull her back into a hug.

"There, there," she shushed into her best friend's ear. "We can figure this out...have you called Poppy?"

Lily leaned her head back onto Emmy's shoulder and sighed.

"There's an outbreak of wizard's flu at Hogwarts…she's got a full infirmary, and no time to make a house call."

"Oh," said Emmy. "So is there anything that I can do to help?"

Lily snorted.

"Remember when I cautioned you about making blanket offers of help?"

"Yes…and I told you that it didn't matter, and that I'd be willing to do what you asked."

"Well, then, I think it's time to test our assumptions."

Emmy thought for a few moments, and then a _Lumos_ spell flashed over her head.

"So that's why you've kicked horny James out of the bedroom…he doesn't get to feed until baby Harry can?"

Lily shrugged her shoulders. "I was already working on my second release when Harry pushed back…took the edge off of James, but there's no way I'm topping his levels off until I'm sure that Harry won't join in."

"That makes sense," Emmy mused, as she scooted back from Lily long enough to undo her sash and open up the front of her robe. When she shifted forward again and ground her pelvis against Lily's lower back her friend turned her head.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure that little Harry will be closer to the meal that I'm whipping up than your husband is," Emmy quipped, as she reached up and tweaked one of her friend's nipples.

"Hey! Stop that!" Lily complained, as she batted the hand away.

"Just trying to get myself in the mood, girlfriend."

The pregnant witch hunched forward and broke skin contact. "It's going to be counterproductive, though, if you get me just as revved up as you are," she protested. "Your restaurant, not mine."

"Spoilsport," Emmy complained, as she lightly nipped on Lily's shoulder with her teeth. But she understood the logic, so it was her own nipple that she took in hand, as her other hand snaked its way down to her core.

"It's so tempting, though," she hissed, as her fingers rubbed the right spot. "Your body is so sexy...so alive…I can't help wanting to rub all over you...and worship your brilliantly huge breasts…"

"Hey, you never complained about their size before I got pregnant," Lily noted.

"True, but….and you smell so amazing…it hit me like a wall three feet away from the bed…I bet you taste just as…"

"Quiet Emmy…it's hard enough for me not to reach down and join you."

Emmy snorted. "I thought you liked it when I talked dirty…when you could listen to me moan when I accidentally on-purpose forgot to silence my bed curtains in the dorms…"

"You always were a screamer, weren't you luv?" Lily asked.

Emmy nodded, and rested her forehead on Lily's back as she picked up the pace of her rub. She closed her eyes and thought about the first time she caught Lily feeding James, on the night of his first transformation. They were in an unused classroom, with Lily down on her knees sucking on James's demon-sized wand. He was running his hands through her hair and growling as his tentacles attacked her bits from all angles. She couldn't believe that Lily was going down on the boy who had always pestered her…couldn't believe that the boy had demon blood in him...or that her friend would allow anything to be stuffed up her backside.

Couldn't believe it until one of those demonic tentacles snaked itself up under her robes and found that same spot.

And the recollection of her first demonic buggering caused Emmy to moan loudly, and release her own distinctive scent of arousal. It was a scent that James picked up on from outside the door.

"Is everything okay in there?" he shouted, as the doorknob shook.

"Everything's fine, Jimmy…just stay away!" Lily called back nervously. She then hissed, "Are you close, Em?"

"Yessss….." her friend hissed. "So close…."

Close enough to ignore Lily's wishes and grind directly against her friend's back and reach for her friend's nipples.

The release was fast and furious. Emmy screamed, and rubbed, and trembled, and pinched, and screamed some more as she rode out the peak.

"I think it worked!" Lily cried out, as she felt her baby calm.

"Really?" gasped Emmy.

When Lily nodded, Emmeline lifted her leg up and rolled over onto her knees.

"What are you doing?" Lily asked, as her friend stood up on the bed and straddled Lily's front.

Emmy looked down at the pregnant witch and smiled. She spread her stance and squatted down until her crotch grazed the top of Lily's belly. Taking Lily's hand in hers and guiding it towards the contact point, Emmy replied, "I'm cooking up some pudding…want to help?"

Lily snorted, then turned towards the bedroom door, which was shaking a little more violently…Demon Jimmy was losing his patience.

Reaching a quick decision, she pulled her hand away from Emmy's grasp, then scooted her hips forward until her tongue was within range of its target.

"Not enough time for fingers," Lily explained, just before she buried her face.

Emmy moaned out in pleasure and smiled as she rode on her friend's face. The small part of her brain presently reserved for rational thought knew that Lily could have gotten her to cum just as easily with her fingers. But there was no part of her brain that was willing to facilitate the verbalization of that thought.

When Emmy's second orgasm hit, she pulled away and pushed Lily down onto her back. Her plans to repay her friend in kind were interrupted when James blasted through an interior wall and created a new, unlocked doorway.

Shocked by what he had just done, James stopped short of the bed and glared at the two witches. Powdered wall plaster coated his sweaty body, and his chest heaved from deep breathing as his hands rested on his hips. Four tentacles waved wildly in the air, and his monster-sized erection throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

Emmy looked at James, then turned back to Lily and asked, "What should I do?"

Lily thought for a moment, and placed the palms of her hand on her belly. "Harry's sleeping!" she said with amazement. "It worked!"

"Great," purred Emmy. "So I should go, then?"

Lily glanced at her husband, and tracked the progress of tentacles as they approached the bed.

"It's up to you," she replied. "If you want to help feed…I mean, it's only fair, after how you just helped…"

Emmy read the uncertainty in her friend's face, and reluctantly said, "We'll talk about this later…call me if you still need my help an hour from now."

The naked witch disapparated before Lily could reply…and just before James's limbs could coil around Emmy's hips.

Those tentacles changed course and pressed Lily's knees apart.

The pregnant witch shifted her focus just as deftly as her husband did. She licked her lips, and cooed, "Okay, Jimmy…your turn to eat."

Demon James didn't need a second call to dinner.


	3. Chapter 3 A Little Help from the Coven

**La Blue Wizard**

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

oo00OO00oo

**Chapter 3 : With a Little Help From the Coven**

_On the last day of July…_

James Potter ran his fingers through his unruly head of black hair for the eighty-seventh time as he paced back and forth in their sitting room and glanced nervously up the stairs. He winced when Lily's reaction to her latest contraction rang down upon his head from their bedroom.

"Owwwwww! Damn it hurts! You bastard, James! I'm going to grind your gonads into a bloody pulp!"

"Hey, now…that one's creative, isn't it?" asked Sirius.

James turned to his friend and scowled.

"You three are supposed to be supporting me here, not taunting!"

"Well…it…it is funny, isn't it?" Peter suggested.

"Funny?" asked James, his eyes narrowing. "How is it funny, Wormtail…funny as in strange, or funny like ha-ha funny?"

"Erm…funny strange…yeah, not something you hear every day," stammered the sycophant, as he hid behind Remus.

Lily's screams interrupted the exchange.

"Damn…damn….damn! That hurts! I hate you Potter! You did this to me!"

"Was she complaining like this nine months ago?" Sirius asked.

"Hush!" James hissed.

"I heard that you mangy mongrel!" Lilly yelled. "You can lick your balls good-bye too!"

"Hey, now, that image is uncalled for," Sirius quietly whined, as he crossed his legs.

"How much longer, do you think?" asked Peter.

"No clue," James admitted. "Labor started six hours ago…could take a whole day."

"Buck up, mate…could be worse," offered Sirius. "Emmy told me that in the Muggle world, it's normal for the father to be right there at the mother's side during delivery."

"Yeah, but in the Muggle world the father doesn't have to worry about blasts of accidental magic."

"Lily's expressed intentions seem anything but accidental," Remus observed, as Lily promised to show her husband some creative applications of the cutting curse.

"Which is why Emmy and Poppy are up there, and I'm staying down here," whispered James.

"He-he…what happened to the big brave Auror who stares down Death Eaters?" Wormtail asked (perhaps a bit too gleefully for his own good).

"Death Eaters wouldn't stand a chance against a witch in labor," James claimed.

"Hey, now there's an idea," Sirius said with a smile. "Put a couple of squadrons together…I'd be happy to help them meet qualifications."

Remus shook his head. "Ever hear of 'friendly fire,' Sirius?"

"No worries…just need to make sure that I am well behind the front lines."

"Or at the very least, out of their line of sight," James observed.

But line of sight didn't matter much ten minutes later, right after Peter suggested that the pain of childbirth couldn't be worse than some of the bowel-twisting pranks that they had played as students at Hogwarts. At the peak of the very next contraction, Lily cried like a banshee and released a percussive wave of not-so-accidental magic that washed down from the bedroom and kicked all four Marauders in the balls.

Hard.

As the four friends doubled over in pain and howled, Lily yelled, "Quit whining, you bastards, and imagine feeling that kind of pain every three minutes!"

The Marauders kept their thoughts to themselves after that.

Four contractions later, James's eyes went wide when he heard Lily scream, "Oh, no Harry, not now! Please, not now!"

"What do you think is wrong?" asked Remus.

The father-to-be had a pretty good idea what was wrong, but wasn't about to reveal that to his friends.

"Poppy?" he called up the stairs. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Just keep your distance, James," the Hogwarts matron called back. "Emmeline and I are equipped to handle this."

"Sounds like a plan to me," quipped Sirius, as Lily's salty language grew both saltier and louder.

James ignored his friend Sirius…he was too busy reinforcing his Occlumency shields and controlling his pulse rate in an effort to control the demon inside.

A few minutes later, the cries of more than one witch were carried through the house.

"Oh!..Oh!...Oh!...."

"What do you think that is?" Sirius asked, as he heard Emmy's moans.

"Erm….must be breathing exercises," James replied nervously. "The coach helps the mother breathe in and out at regular intervals by breathing with her."

"Oh! Sweet Morgana!" a voice cried.

"Hey, wasn't that Poppy's voice?" Peter asked.

"I do believe that it was….James?" asked Sirius.

The black-haired wizard shrugged. "Maybe a prayer?"

The cries from upstairs quieted for a few moments, before Lily cursed, and declared, "It wasn't enough! Bloody needy bastard, taking after his demon-spawned father!"

"What is all that about?" whispered Peter.

Poppy's somewhat breathless call for James to come upstairs led the black-haired wizard to reply that he'd soon find out.

"Are you sure it's…safe?" he called up.

"You get your arse up here Potter, before I feed your bits to a Nundu!" yelled Lily.

"Yes, dear!" he replied, without a hint of sarcasm (which would have been rather dangerous if displayed right then).

The door locked clicked open as James approached the bedroom door, allowing him to push through unannounced. What he saw caused him to stop short within the threshold.

His naked wife was sitting sideways in bed, with knees pulled up and legs spread to the world. She was sitting in between the spread legs of Emmy, who was also skyclad, and supporting Lily's weight from behind. Poppy Pomfrey was sitting on a high-backed chair that was placed just to Lily's right side. The nurse had both feet planted on the floor, and her healer robes hiked up above her hips, fully exposing her thighs. The only part of her lower body not uncovered was her fanny, which was hidden behind robes gathered in between her legs.

_"Probably hidden by her fingers as well,"_ James thought, given how her right hand was buried in between her legs. Emmy, in contrast, cared not a bit for her modesty…while her left arm was wrapped protectively around Lily's chest, her right hand was clearly visible as it rubbed in between her legs.

There was a heavy musky scent in the air that got James' horns thinking about breaking through his scalp.

The door slammed shut behind him, and a silencing spell applied. It was then that James noticed that his wife had her wand in hand.

"Eyes up to mine, you arse!" Lily hissed, as she aimed her wand towards James. "And keep those tentacles under your robes, or I'll lop them off and serve them up as sushi!"

"What's going…Harry transformed?" he asked.

"No, you idiot, it's normal procedures for midwives to masturbate while their patients are in labor!" Lily snapped.

"But…Emmy fed him just yesterday, and he's…they…they just fed him again, didn't they? Shouldn't that be enough?"

"Obviously not, you miserable pile of dragon shit!" she barked.

"We need reinforcements," Poppy hissed.

"Who?" asked James. "Want me to get the Marauders up here?"

"Oh, fuck no!" Lily spat. "You really think I want your friends up here doing a circle jerk with me looking like this?"

"It was just a thought," James replied. "Who else, then?"

"Make…floo call…House of Vesta," Poppy panted. "Ask for Miranda…tell her…need their help…"

"How many should I ask for?"

"Enough to make sure that your son isn't wearing his horns when his head splits me open, you arsewipe!" spat Lily, right before she started a new contraction.

"Oh….god…damn…you…James!" she huffed. "Never…fucking…again!"

"Erm….I'll just be making that call," he said nervously, as he slipped out the door and quickly made his way down stairs.

"So what's going on?" asked Remus.

The black-haired wizard made up a fairly good excuse on the spot. "Difficult delivery…Poppy wants to bring in some consultants…something about magically powerful baby being a risk to a Muggleborn mother."

James threw some floo powder into the fireplace flames, called out, "House of Vesta," and stuck his head into the hearth before any of his friends could ask a follow-up question.

"House of Vesta?" Sirius asked, with confusion in his voice.

Remus shrugged. "Well they do perform fertility rituals…maybe this is part of a full-service product line."

When James completed his call and pulled his head out of the fire, he refused to say anything beyond the fact that Madame Pomfrey had made the request. Moments later, a dozen different witches stepped out of the fireplace, each wearing maroon robes emblazoned with the same distinctive Coven mark.

"Where are they?" asked the first witch, whose white hair and wrinkled skin could have belong to a great-grandmother (under obviously different circumstances).

James pointed towards the upstairs bedroom door.

"You're the father?"

James nodded.

The witch looked him up and down, then suddenly seemed to realize not just who he was, but _what_ he was. "Yes, well best that you stay down here, Milord, to avoid…getting in the way?"

James replied with a head nod.

Lily's screams then caught the witches' attention, and they rushed upstairs.

There was distinct look of sadness on Sirius Black's face as the twelve mostly elderly witches passed by.

"What's wrong?" asked Peter.

"It's not fair, I tell you," the black-haired wizard replied, with a wipe of a false tear. "To dash a young wizard's dreams that way."

"What do you mean?"

"I always thought that the Vestal Virgins were young, and hot, and a worthy test of my skills in seduction," the Marauder explained.

"Who says that they aren't?" Remus asked. "Most of them have certainly had decades to practice rebuffing the likes of you!"

"Oh ho!" said Peter. "So you're into older women, Remus?"

"As opposed to you, Peter, whose interests extend no farther than your five fingers?"

"Five fingers?" quipped Sirius. "Far too generous there, Remus…I'm certain that Wormtail needs no more than two fingers to cover his needs."

"At least my two fingers wouldn't be stuck up my arse!" snapped Peter.

"As if you knew the difference between your arse and a hole in the ground!"

"Boys, boys…need to remember why we're here," advised Moony.

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius replied. He slapped James on the back and said, "Hey, brother, you look like you could use a drink….where's your firewhiskey?"

"As if you didn't know," James said with a roll of his eyes.

"Why thank you James…I think that I will join you in a drink," Sirius replied with a grin.

As Padfoot made his way to the study, Peter and Remus tried to make sense of the new moans and new voices that were drifting downstairs.

"Why would these consultants be yelling, 'Give it to me, girl'?" asked Peter.

Remus frowned.

"James?"

The future father shrugged.

"Do I look like the kind of guy who'd know the first thing about virgin rituals?"

Remus snorted. "Well, given why we're here, and why Lily is in labor, obviously not."

"Unless somebody else is the father, eh James?" quipped Peter.

Since Sirius had just returned carrying drinks in both hands, he had to express his displeasure with that comment by kicking Wormtail in the arse.

"Lily has been quite clear on who is to blame for her condition, you git," stated Padfoot, as he handed James a half-full tumbler.

"Erm, yeah, Sirius, good point," Peter said meekly, as he rubbed his bum with both hands.

The sudden absence of sound gave the Marauders more reasons to speculate and worry. James set his untouched drink down and returned to his pacing. His eyes focused squarely on the patch of floor two feet in front of his feet as he went back and forth.

"I wonder what kind of rituals they're doing," said Peter, as he passed the time sorting through his collection of gobstones.

"Why don't you knock on the door and ask if you can join in?" asked Sirius. "Merlin knows you meet the minimum requirements."

"Up yours, Sirius," whined Peter.

"Your best hope for losing your virginity, isn't it Wormtail?"

"You wish."

Padfoot rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes…you got me there…I can only dream of being buggered by your rat-sized wand."

"Pipe down, both of you," ordered Moony.

"Yes, mum," the two replied in monotonic unison.

Ten minutes later, the silencing spell was lifted and the bedroom door opened. Eight of the twelve coven members walked down the stairs with flushed cheeks and smiles on their faces.

Remus's were-enhanced sense of smell immediately kicked in, and he silently wondered how Lily's labor could be made easier by sex acts.

Meanwhile, James's demon-enhanced senses flared. He too, knew what the witches had been doing upstairs, only he knew why as well. The eight all had varying levels of sexual energy lingering about them, and it was all he could do not to grab that energy all at once and feed.

"Success?" he asked, as the leader approached him.

"Yes, Lord Potter, for now," the crone replied. "Four are continuing their…work…to prevent a relapse."

"Good," he replied, trying hard not to grit his teeth at the thought…or the fact that the Coven leader was standing not two feet away from him radiating with post-coital energy.

"So the…residual?" he asked.

The Coven leader smiled, and cupped James's cheek with her hand.

"Waste not, want not, Milord," she replied.

The touch engaged James's feeding reflex, and his nostrils flared. His eyes locked onto the elderly witch's…she was none the worse for wear as he fed. In fact, her eyes danced with amusement as the exchange took place within the briefest of moments.

"Erm…thank you, Matriarch," James replied, kissing the back of her hand.

"Very happy to be of service," the witch said with a coy smile and curtsy.

Similarly secret exchanges of sexual energy were facilitated by kisses on the back of each witch's hand as they passed James on the way to the floo. The part-demon was amused to discover that the Matriarch had provided the biggest boost in energy, and he wondered whether that might reflect his son's discriminatory tastes, or the relative strength of her orgasm.

Four years of practice and the occasionally necessary memory charm had kept the other Marauders from knowing that anything was going on…James had kept his demonic heritage a secret from his male friends, and while they certainly could be trusted with that knowledge now, there were always good reasons to limit the spread of this information to anyone who hadn't already sworn themselves to secrecy.

The boost in both physical and magical energy provided by the feedings was forgotten when Lily's screams became all the louder, and coarser, and more frequent.

As the string of hurled expletives and the shouts for Lily to push reached a crescendo, so did James's worries. He abandoned his pacing, placed one foot on the stairs, and wondered why in Merlin's name he wasn't by his wife's side (in spite of her requests).

And then Lily's cries stopped, and a new cry was heard…a baby's cry.

In a flash he was up the stairs and at the closed door.

"Lily!" he called out.

"Hold on, James!" Emmeline called back.

Auror Potter leaned his head against the door and sighed, thinking his wife to be a fool for her worry…worry that he would no longer think her sexy or desirable if he watched her giving birth.

The next five minutes were the longest of his relatively young life, as he listened to his son wail out in apparent pain. But then the crying stopped, and he feared that absence of sound signified something worse.

Finally the door unlocked, and Madame Pomfrey opened it just a crack. She look through the gap and said, "Just you, James."

The wizard nodded, told his friends where the special cigars he'd ordered for the occasion were hidden, and stepped inside.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter," Poppy said with a smile. "It's a boy…and then some."

James smiled and nodded his head (though he hadn't heard a word Poppy said). His eyes were glued to the center of the bed, where his beautiful wife was stretched out with a sheet covering up to her waist. She was on her side, gently holding the back of her newborn's head as he suckled on her breast.

Lily looked up, and beckoned James towards the bed. He almost floated to her side...so filled with love, and amazement, and wonder. This focus on his new family was so intense, that his demon-side totally ignored the fact that their friend Emmy was naked and spooning against his wife's back, or that the four remaining Virgins were sharing one-arm hugs and smiling as they stood skyclad on either side of the bed.

Emmy scooted off the bed, allowing the new daddy to take her place and slip in behind Lily. He propped himself on one elbow, so that he could watch his son feed…and whisper words of love into his wife's ear.

After a few minutes of suckling, baby Harry broke off and began to fuss.

"What's wrong?" James asked.

One of the Vestal Virgins snorted, and reached down for the blanket wrapped infant.

"Probably needs to burp," she replied, as she conjured a cloth to place onto her shoulder, and began to pat Harry's back.

It took a few moments for James to process the incongruity of a baby being burped by a nude member of the Coven of Vesta. When her efforts produced a large "blap!", he smiled.

"You look awfully good at that job, considering your vocation," the new father quipped.

The Coven member chuckled as she wiped some spit-up from Harry's face. "I've got six nieces and nephews," she replied.

When Harry began to fuss again, the witch placed him on her other shoulder and began to pat his back again. But it was harder for her to elicit a response, and a minute later she discovered why.

"Is he filling his pants?" Lily asked.

The witch shook her head as she felt Harry's head.

"He's filling his forehead, I think," she replied, as she handed the bundled baby back to his mother.

Lily frowned, and sat up so that she could rest her back against the headboard. Cradling her son in her arm, she pulled back on the piece of blanket that covered the top of his head.

"Oh, doesn't he have the cutest little blue horns!" Emmeline squealed.

"Unbelievable," Lily said with a bemused snort. "Your son kept fourteen witches busy not one hour ago, and he's already hungry again."

"That's my boy!" James said proudly.

Lily shook her head. "Easy for you to say, James…it's not you that has to feed him."

"That would be my job," Emmy said with a smile.

"But how many times have you already rubbed off today?" asked Lily

"We can always help," offered one of the Coven members, as she leaned down and placed her hand on Emmy's bare hip.

Lily's friend smiled and waggled her eyebrows, before lightly kicking James's leg.

"So shoo, Papa Demon…no soup for you!"

James snorted and nodded his head. He then kissed his wife and baby goodbye, before heading out to celebrate Marauder style.


	4. Chapter 4 When the Seventh Month Died

**La Wizard Blue  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 4 - When the Seventh Month Died**

Albus Dumbledore was on a very short list of witches and wizards who had the ability to bypass the access restrictions to the Potter family's floo connection…not because he was powerful, but because he was trusted. Trusted, that is, until the day he gave the new parents reasons to think otherwise.

That day came on the first of August, when the Hogwarts Headmaster paid a visit to offer his congratulations to James and Lily. Emmeline Vance answered his initial floo call, and was there to meet Dumbledore as he stepped out of the fireplace.

"James got called in by the Ministry, but Lily and Harry are in the conservatory," she noted, holding out an arm in guidance.

The Headmaster nodded and thanked the young witch, filing away in his well organized mind the fact that she was acting unusually at home.

Emmy led him to the back of the house, where a two-story glass-walled conservatory offered an abundance of sunshine and an expansive view of the gardens. Lily was there, sitting on a chaise lounge with her newborn in her arms. The bright well-lit space was filled with flowering plants, both magical and mundane. Tables on either side of the chaise were filled with baby gifts and notes and cards offering congratulations to the new family. Animated stuffed magical animals could be seen scampering and flying about the room. Albus's eyes were particularly drawn towards a black grim plushie who was chasing a brown toy rat.

The Hogwarts Headmaster offered Lily both his own congratulations and a gift. A bit of his wandless magic opened the package, revealing a garish set of baby clothes, and a charmed nappie that played the Hogwarts school song whenever it was filled. When Lily joked about the song not having a consistent melody, the Headmaster replied that this was actually advantageous…given the number of times that a newborn would need nappie changes, the parents wouldn't tire of hearing the same song over and over again.

Lily let Dumbledore hold Harry, and graciously accepted the predictable comments about the baby's green eyes and mess of fine black hair. When asked about her health and recovery, the new mother stated that Poppy's post-partum magic had worked wonders, and thanked him for lending the Hogwarts Matron. The Headmaster replied that Poppy wouldn't have missed it for the world, even if the baby had arrived on the first day of classes.

This transitional comment led to a discussion about Hogwarts and the new school term. Dumbledore informed Lily that he had hired her childhood acquaintance, Severus Snape, to be the new Potions Professor. Lily frowned, thinking it fortuitous that she had allowed James to go into work rather than hear this news firsthand. She offered her concerns about Snape's young age and inexperience, but Dumbledore assured Lily that he trusted Severus to do an excellent job, noting that he was only a year away from gaining his Mastery.

When the conversation began to drag, Dumbledore summoned up the courage to ask when James was expected home. Upon learning that it wouldn't be for several hours, the Headmaster frowned, and said that he might be able to fix that in his capacity as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He then left, promising to return with the new father in short order.

"Well what do you make of that?" Lily whispered to her friend, as the Headmaster showed himself out.

"Dunno," Emmy replied. "Looked like he wanted to say something, but was reluctant to do so without James here…or with me here."

Lily shook her head. "Emmy, if it's the latter, then we'll quickly disabuse him of that concern…you're part of the family now."

As if to prove that point, the newborn grimaced, then filled his nappie and blue knit cap at the same time.

"Oh, my," Lily said, as she gently passed a finger over Harry's brow. "Barely a day, and he needs a wet nurse again?"

"Well, he is your husband's son," Emmy replied, as she reached for the clean magical nappie. "Best test out the Headmaster's present before he returns, don't you think?"

Lily sighed, then nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, Emmy."

"What are friends for?"

"Erm…I really don't think this situation normally comes to mind."

Emmeline smiled, and touched Lily's shoulder.

"Doesn't mean that the situation doesn't apply though. I'll be back in a bit…rub."

Lily rolled her eyes at the pun, then closed them for a quick rest as Emmy brought the young wizard upstairs.

Harry Potter's prenatal transformation had given the Potters plenty of time to modify the layout of their home to meet future needs. The first floor above ground level had five bedrooms…two facing the front of the house, and three along the back. Their master suite, in the middle of the latter three, had been converted into a nursery, with two interior doors connecting it to the new master at the head of the stairs, and Emmy's bedroom at the far end.

Emmy brought Baby Harry into his brightly-lit room and laid him on the changing table.

"Alright, My Little Merlin," she told the newborn. "Let's clean you up, then we can calm you down, okay?"

The witch smiled when the baby cooed and reached for her finger, certain that it was her tone of voice, rather than the words, that were comforting.

Changing the soiled magical nappie was a straightforward process that was both easier and safer than Muggle counterparts…almost all of the mess was banished on contact with the material, leaving only the odd bit of poo tucked into folds of skin and cracks. The nappie also had a built-in shield charm that activated whenever it was opened, so that caregivers weren't sprayed by a boy baby's mischievous golden streams.

Once Harry's below-the-waist needs were met, Emmy wrapped him back up within his blanket, and set him into his crib. She smiled, and gave the baby the same kind of diagnostic head rub that his mum had provided earlier. The horns that she felt were each a little more than a inch long, and sat two inches above Harry's hairline.

With a goal now firmly in mind, the witch slipped into her bedroom through the connecting door and hung her robes on a wall hook. She then shimmied out of her skirt and knickers, and kicked off her low-heeled dragonhide boots. Now dressed only in a loose cotton shirt, Emmy padded across a plush carpet and sank bare-arsed into the deep cushions of a sectional sofa that sat facing the large bed.

Harry's future godmother glanced around the room and smiled. Lily had gone all out to stock her bedroom, and the "Naughty Nook" set up on one side, with wanking aids….there were Muggle pornographic magazines stacked on the low table in front of her, and a cabinet full of charmed toys and potion-based lubricants to the side. But Emmy ignored all that, swung her legs up onto the sofa, and laid her head back against an upholstered arm so that she could stare at her favorite aide within the room…a magical painting from Ancient Greece that displayed a handsome nude male standing on the bare stage of an open-air theater.

"Kalispera, my lady," the echo said, as he tilted his head towards Emmy.

"And a good afternoon to you, Aleksander," replied the witch. "Care to give me a show?"

"I was painted to serve, my lady," replied the portrait, as he casually leaned back against a marble column and loosely grabbed his oversized bits. "So what would you like to see?"

"Hmmm," Emmy replied with eye waggle, as she spread her knees and took hold of her own sex. "How about a nude wrestling match?"

"An excellent choice," the echo replied. "And should my opponent be male or female?"

"Male, I think," said Emmy. "But not for sex…only for wrestling. Have one of the slave girls apply the oil to your bodies before the match, and then scrape you clean afterward. But while she is cleaning your bits, you both get hard, and she invites you to ravish her, and you penetrate her, both front and back, at the same time."

The echo chuckled as he slowly stroked himself. "I adore a woman who knows exactly what she wants." Looking down at his growing erection, he then asked. "So what if the oil application gets us aroused before the match begins…shall we rub ourselves, or ask the girl to take care of it? Or…perhaps my opponent and I could help each other out during the match?"

"Choices, choices," Emmy replied with a laugh. She then closed her eyes and thought for a moment as her fingers combed through her thick patch of blond pubic hair.

"No homoerotic helping during the match," she finally decided. "Ask the brown-haired echo with the huge breasts to play the part of the slave girl. If either you or your opponent gets aroused, have her pour the olive oil on her own chest and then shag her baps."

"It shall be as you command, my lady," the echo said with a low bow. He then darted behind stage, while Emmy's fingers darted up inside her shirt to pinch a nipple. She'd gotten incredibly aroused just by verbalizing the sex scene, and was quite certain that no further aide was needed. But as long as James and Lily had gone to all of the trouble of obtaining the pornographic painting for her use….

Her resolve crumbled just as soon as Aleksander and his nude opponent walked on stage. The other male echo had even bigger bits than the first, as was proven when the "slave girl" drizzled olive oil down its length.

Emmy came before the match could even begin.

"Hold on," she gasped, as legs trembled involuntarily.

The three echoes complied instantly, and allowed Emmy to catch her breath.

"Be right back," she promised, as she slipped her robes over her head, and dashed back onto the other side of the curtain, where she found a very happy-looking baby lying on his back.

"Let's see if that was enough," Emmy said, as she reached down to touch Harry's cheek with the back of her bare hand.

The newborn's eyes tracked the motion, and reached up to once again take hold of Emmy's outstretched finger. Harry's eyes flashed as the energy transfer was made. His caregiver, who was familiar enough with James's eye flashes, was instead surprised with how well the one-day old baby could follow her hand…and even more surprised when the baby's fingers wrapped around her own and pulled it towards his mouth.

"Oh, no, sweetheart…sweet Merlin, that's a strong grip!" Emmy exclaimed, as she tried to pull the finger back. But Harry had other ideas, and held firm.

"Your Mum and Dad are going to want to see this," the witch stated, as she reached out with her other hand and determined that Harry still had horns. "But only after you're done feeding, okay?"

The newborn's grip loosened, causing Emmy to wonder if it was all possible that he actually understood what she had said. She left that analysis for later, though…the demon-baby was still hungry, and there was a scene of her own creation waiting to play out on the other side of the wall.

**oo00OO00oo**

Emmy allowed the oil-painted and oil-soaked actors to complete their play before she checked on Harry again. Her gentle touch soothed the demi-demon, who fell asleep almost as fast as his blue horns disappeared. The blonde-haired witch adjusted the baby's blankets, then stepped back into her bedroom's en suite lavatory for a quick wash-up.

As the "wet nurse" walked downstairs, she heard James begging, and Lily cursing even more creatively and more explicitly than she had during labor.

"Honey…sweetheart…you need to calm down!" James exclaimed, in between the casting of repair spells on broken panes of glass.

"I'll calm down just as soon as that miserable, manipulative dollop of dragon dung fixes the mess that he made!" Lily yelled.

"Honey! You can't call the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot dragon dung!"

"Well if the shite fits…"

"Is it safe to join you two?" Emmy asked, as she entered the conservatory.

"Oh, sorry," her friend replied, as she deflated a bit and leaned back into her chair. "How's Harry?"

"Sleeping peacefully, if you can believe it."

"And he's done feeding?"

"Yes."

"So…how many did it take?" asked Lily.

"Somewhere between two and four," Emmy replied with a smile. "Sorry, but those last three were on top of each other…didn't want to stop and check."

James, who had been busy repairing windows broken by Lily's post-partum accidental magic, turned back towards the two witches.

"Has to be closer to four," he told Emmy, as his nostrils flared. "He left you with hardly more than a bite-sized morsel of energy."

"Also took my finger with an amazingly strong grip, right after the first," Emmy replied.

"He did, did he?" asked James, as his chest puffed with pride. "Has to be the strength of the demon in him."

"Oh, Merlin, quit crowing and get that wand out…I've still got some pent up violent energy of my own to bleed off," his wife stated.

"Yes, Dear," James replied with a grin.

"So Dumbledore has come and gone, I take it?"

Lily nodded. "Lucky he was able to leave…I should have knee-capped the bastard with blasting hexes."

"What did he do?" asked Emma.

"Decided to wait until it was too late to tell us that Harry might be the subject of a…"

"Lily?" asked James.

"What?" his wife shot back. "If Emmy is going to help take care of Harry, she needs to know just as much as we do!"

"Erm…yes, Dear."

"Know what, Lils?" Emmeline asked.

"That Dumbledore heard a prophecy regarding a child who was born as the seventh month died, to parents who had thrice defied the Dark Lord."

"As the seventh month…what about this child?"

"Dumbledore says that "The One" who matches these qualifications will have the power to defeat the Dark Lord."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Emmy asked incredulously. "A newborn with the power to defeat him?"

"Yeah, it sounded ridiculous to us too," James admitted. "The problem, though, is that one of the Death Eaters overheard this prophecy and told his Master. And so long as he believes that the prophecy could be fulfilled…"

"He'll be looking for any baby born in July whose parents have defied him."

"Yeah, defied him three times, just like us," Lily declared.

"Or like Frank and Alice," James added.

"Oh, no…their son was born yesterday as well!"

"Exactly," Lily replied with a deep sigh. "If we had known in advance…might have paid for an advertisement in the Daily Prophet that said we defied the Dark bastard…just to make it one more than 'thrice'…Or I could have spelled my fanny shut and crossed my legs until the stroke of midnight. But no…Dumbledore waited until after Harry was born and after James made forty-seven floo calls to announce the news."

"Why would he wait…"

"Said that it had been a heavy burden to bear, not being able to interfere with the prophecy for fear of making things worse….bunch of poppycock if you ask me."

"So what did he propose we do now?" Emmeline asked.

"Hide," James spat. "Hide behind magic…which sounds like a bad idea all around."

"Why?"

"Let's say that Harry is the one with the power," James explained. "Just how old and how well-trained will he have to be to stand up against the Dark Lord? How many decades would we have to stay hidden until our son is ready?"

"Well…what did Dumbledore say to that?"

"That it was a temporary measure, to be undertaken whilst he researches other options," Lily said disdainfully.

Emmeline shook her head and let out a sigh. "So why don't you just leave the country? Merlin knows you've got the means…and that house in St. Kitts, or the flat in Paris…"

"I can't leave," James said with a scowl. "So long as there are Death Eater attacks, the MLE has canceled all leaves, denied all vacation requests, and even brought folks back out of retirement."

"So why not quit?"

"They won't let him," Lily lamented. "All letters of resignation have been refused, and their bloody oaths as Aurors would take his magic if James just walked away from the job. He's suggested that I take Harry away, at least, but who would feed James if I wasn't here?"

"I could manage," James muttered.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Lily replied. She then shook her head and said, "So we're staying, for now, and it's up to Dumbledore to make things right."

"What kind of magical protections did he propose?"

"It's called a _Fidelius_ spell," Lily replied. "Incredibly complex piece of magic…only a handful of people in the world capable of casting it."

"And Dumbledore is one of them?"

James shook his head. "No, his strength lies in transfiguration, not charms…Dumbledore volunteered Professor Flitwick's services…said that he called him back from his holidays, and that he'll swing around tomorrow to help."

Emmy frowned as her friend followed up with a detailed description of what the spell does and how it worked.

"So what is the secret that Dumbledore proposes be kept hidden?" she asked.

"The location of our hide-out," James replied.

"But what if your Secret Keeper is caught by the Death Eaters and tortured?"

"Then we're buggered," said Lily. "Dumbledore volunteered to be our Secret Keeper, but given how little we trust him now…"

"Why not one of you two?" Emmy asked.

James shook his head. "We thought that would work, until Dumbledore pointed out the downsides…if the house caught on fire, and the only people who knew where the house was located were trapped inside, then…"

Emmy thought for a few moments. "There has to be a better way of protecting Harry," she stated. "Maybe…wait…does this secret have to be linked to a building?"

"No," said Lily. "Could be any bit of information. The only limitation is on the magic that would fight against its protection."

"What kind of magic?"

"Depends on the situation," James replied. "For example, my magic or Harry's magic would fight hard against any attempt to hide knowledge of the fact that we have demonic heritage…aside from the issues of pride and power, what would happen if Dumbledore was made secret keeper for that secret and didn't then share the information with us?"

"You wouldn't know what was happening with your body, or know what steps were needed to keep you from madness," Emmy realized. "So if Harry was this child of prophecy, and we tried to keep that fact a secret, the prophecy's magic would keep the spell from working?"

Lily nodded. "And probably kill the spell caster along the way."

"But you said that Dumbledore isn't certain that Harry is this child, right? Alice's newborn also meets the criteria."

"So if it's one of the two, and Professor Flitwick tries to protect both, he'd still meet resistance," James reasoned. "If not here, then over at Frank and Alice's."

Lily bit her lower lip and thought. "But maybe if we were clever, and used some of the logic that so often escapes the wizarding world…"

James's nostrils flared as his wife's eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Merlin, Lils, you know how sexy you look when you get to thinking…"

Lily scowled. "Could you put a lid on your inner demon and think with your other head for once?"

"Apparently not," Emmy quipped, as she watched horns pop out of the wizard's messy black mop of hair.

"Can I help it if I find my sexy wife sexy?" James asked.

"Think first, feed later," Lily growled. "And if you're a good little demon, I'll let you put Poppy's healing skills to the test down there."

"Down there, down there?" James asked. "Don't tease me Lils, it's been more than a month…"

"You heard me, _Octo-Jimmy_," Lily said with a wink and a grin.

Having been properly incentivized, James's inner demon proved unusually cooperative as the three began to brainstorm.


	5. Ch 5 When Dark Lords Make House Calls

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 5 - When Dark Lords Make House Calls**

**oo00OO00oo**

Two days after the seventh month died on the modern Gregorian calendar, and one day after Dumbledore revealed a portion of the Prophecy to two different sets of parents, Charms Master Filius Flitwick paid a visit to the Potter residence. He found a much larger gathering than he had anticipated…the new family was joined not just by Emmeline Vance, but by Frank and Alice Longbottom, their newborn son, and Frank's mother. The Hogwarts Professor was quite surprised when he was informed that the spells that he would cast would protect something other than safe houses. He was less surprised that neither family wanted Dumbledore to be their secret keeper, once he was informed why _Fidelius _charms were needed in the first place.

An engaging discussion was held over lunch, as the gathering weighed the pros and cons of the proposed strategy. Flitwick, of course, had a personal stake in the decision, since it'd be his life and magic on the line if powerful magic opposed his efforts. They ultimately decided that if one of the newborn scions was indeed destined to be "The One," that protecting knowledge of that fact wouldn't be the same as trying to change that fact, and that the Prophecy's magic wouldn't align itself in opposition to the spell.

So it was that the two families went into separate rooms, each with their designated secret keeper. Professor Flitwick then cast sequential _Fidelius_ spells that were identical in composition, save for the children's names. The casting went without incident; prophecy chose not to oppose their efforts to protect the knowledge that Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter were each born as the seventh month died, to parents who had thrice defied the Dark Lord.

**oo00OO00oo**

Three days after the seventh month died on the modern Gregorian calendar, a small brown owl flew into the lair of the self-styled Dark Lord and delivered a letter to its final destination. It was the end of a very long and circuitous path for the message…one that involved four different owls and three separate dead-drops.

Once the designated minion by Voldemort's side was dismissed, the Dark Lord cast the appropriate counters to the near-lethal privacy spells that guarded the envelope's contents. Inside that envelope was a simple list that had been hastily scribed by an unmarked operative in the early hours of the first day of August. It was more of a table, actually, with the names of newborns that had been born at St. Mungo's over the previous month:

o-o-o-o-o

_04 July – Theodore Nott, parents Thaddeus and Heather Nott_

_12 July – Elizabeth Berger, parents Troy and Gwendolyn Berger_

_13 July – unnamed boy, parents identity protected by memory charm_

_16 July – unnamed girl, parents identity protected by memory charm_

_27 July – Patricia Ashburn, parents Edward and Joyce Ashburn_

_31 July – Neville Longbottom, parents Frank and Alice Longbottom_

o-o-o-o-o

While the Dark Lord's eyes covered the entire page and all six entries, his brain only recognized the existence of five lines of text…such was the strength of the _Fidelius _charm that now protected the last name on the list...a charm than now protected the following secret:

_"Neville Longbottom was born as the seventh month died, to parents who had thrice defied the Dark Lord."_

The _Fidelius_ charm's magic didn't physically erase the words and numbers that were written before it was cast (by someone other than the secret keeper)…instead, it acted like an amped-up _Notice-Me-Not_ charm, and kept anyone who looked at those words and numbers from registering their meaning.

"_Five births…a couple more than normal,"_ Voldemort mused, as his eyes passed over Neville's name. _"But two more anonymous births protected by obliviation...damn Purebloods and their worries about squib offspring and social standing…"_ The Dark Lord also was well aware of the likelihood that an equal number of expectant mothers had given birth at home, and that their children's names (like Harry Potter's) wouldn't have been recorded at St. Mungo's.

Thinking it best to worry about omissions later on, Voldemort summoned a locked chest from a corner of his "throne room," and opened it with appropriate counter-charms and passwords. Inside this chest was a scroll that, when unrolled and expanded, grew into a wall-sized piece of parchment.

Voldemort levitated the scroll in front of him, and used wandless magic to write in the names and birthdays within the annotated calendar. A deep sigh then escaped from the Dark Lord's mouth…the kind of sigh that he'd only let loose when his minions weren't around to falsely interpret it as a sign of weakness.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches_," he said to himself for the thousandth time. "_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies .._."

But which seventh month…on which calendar? Given the nature of prophecy, Voldemort was fairly certain that the most obvious answer wouldn't be the correct answer.

The "modern" calendar used within the Muggle world considered the thirty-one day month of July to be the seventh month of the year. And while certain portions of the wizarding world used this Gregorian calendar to mark time (for example, classes at Hogwarts always began on the first day of September), it wasn't uncommon for "ordinary wizard folk" to follow a lunar calendar. Some types of magic, in fact, required it…rituals that were linked to specific cycles of the moon, and certain magical herbs or plants could only be safely harvested or used at certain times of the lunar year. And then there was Divination, where readings were often made and fortunes foretold based on lunar calendar birth dates. And since prophecy was a form of Divination…

Which led to a separate question…which lunar calendar should he follow? There were choices, you see, even if one ignored the Chinese and Islamic versions.

The Old English lunar calendar was actually a heliolunar system, in that it was tied to both solar and lunar cycles. The new year started at Yule (i.e. the Winter Solstice) and each month had 28 days. So, counting out seven twenty-eight day months from 21 December of the previous year placed the end of the month "Afterlithe," on the Fifth of July.

But then there was the Celtic lunar calendar, favored by those who practiced Old Magik, which divided the year into a light and dark halves. As the day was seen as beginning at sunset, so the year was seen as beginning with the arrival of the darkness...at Samhain, the first of November. The light half of the year started at Bealtaine, on the first of May. So the seventh month of the Celtic calendar corresponded with modern month of May, and "died" on May 28.

The safest approach for the Dark Lord to take would be Biblical in scale…kill every baby born in Britain over the past year. But that was both impractical, and unwise…birthrates within the magical world were low, and many of his loyal followers had taken time over the past year to impregnate their wives. Crabb…Goyle…Malfoy…Parkinson… even Nott had sired a child (and he could have been crowned "Most Impotent Minion" had such a contest been held).

Then there was the fact that the Prophecy had a two-part test…"The One" was born to parents who "thrice defied him". Again, there was plenty of room for interpretation…defiance could mean anything from a Light-side wizard engaging him in a duel, to a Death Eater family hiding a few galleons from their Lord's purview.

It was this last example that most troubled Voldemort. Over the years, he had boosted his magical strength, ensured his immortality, and expanded his repertoire of lethal spells using the kind of Dark Magic that no Light-side supporter of Dumbledore would even be aware of, much less consider using. How, therefore, could a "Light" witch or wizard, unwilling to soil their hands or their souls with the sacrificial blood of the innocent, even come close to gaining enough power to "vanquish" the greatest, most powerful Dark Lord in history?

But there were plenty of Dark witches and wizards who would not hold themselves back based on quaint notions of "good" and "evil"…witches and wizards who not only knew about some of the rituals he had used, but who had participated in them.

"_Yes,"_ Voldemort decided, as he pulled a self-inking quill from a robe pocket. _"I must pay careful attention to my most _loyal_ followers and their families."_

The Dark Lord leaned forward and drew circles around the names of three children, two born in July, and the third in May. Having thus marked those born as three different "seventh" months died, he rolled up the parchment, placed it back within the locked chest, and summoned an aide.

"Bring me Severus Snape," he ordered. "I have need of a travel companion."

**oo00OO00oo**

Edward Ashburn was a low-ranking Death Eater with mediocre magical skills…the kind of minion that was recruited more for his family's money than any ability to effective terrorize the wizarding world. He had never personally spoken with the Dark Lord, and only come within arm's reach on the night he was initiated. To say Ashburn was shocked, therefore, when Voldemort and Snape paid his family a house call, would be an understatement.

The wizard was properly humble, and hastily assembled his wife and newborn child within their sitting room. When Snape produced a vial from a robe pocket, Ashburn and his wife showed no hesitancy as they allowed three drops of _Veritaserum_ to fall upon their tongues. And when Voldemort asked both husband and wife to identify every single instance in which they had defied him…

Silence.

A few follow-up questions confirmed that they had never knowingly gone against the Dark Lord. Never ever. Not in the least.

Thus assured that this was not the family of prophecy, Voldemort used the balance of the potion's efficacy to ask questions of a more personal nature, more for his amusement than anything else. He was rather disappointed to learn that Ashburn considered his Death Eater duties to be more of a job, than a calling…he took no perverse joy in causing pain, and had no real hatred for Muggles and the Muggleborn. His wife was just as boring…someone who, when asked, declared her most perverse sexual fantasy to be, "leaving the lights on whilst having missionary position sex in bed with my husband."

Voldemort almost killed the couple on principle, since boring minions couldn't be very effective Death Eaters. But they were always good on their support payments and loyal to a fault. So he spared them, and turned the visit into a teachable moment...as the Dark Lord cradled his newborn child, Edward Ashburn followed his Master's orders and buggered his wife on the sitting room floor while she sucked off Snape.

With the lights on.

The subservience and willingness to debase themselves in that manner was worthy of a roll of the Dark Lord's eyes. But on the positive side, the husband appeared to enjoy the anal sex, and, once spent, declared that he'd be looking for that kind of "action" in the future. And Snape certainly left the house wearing a smile. So who could say with a straight face that the Dark Lord didn't provide for his followers?

Voldemort crossed young Patricia Ashburn's name from his list, and continued on to his next destination.

**oo00OO00oo**

Snape and his Master were welcomed into the Nott residence with a bit more tension in the air…not because the Death Eater and his wife thought they had anything to hide, but because they'd been allied with the Dark Lord long enough to know that, on occasion, having nothing to hide didn't matter.

The assembled family included two older daughters, aged three and five, who both hid behind their mother's robes as she held their month-old son in her arms. Lady Nott offered their guests tea, but wasn't surprised when it was refused.

Thinking that one of his longest-serving minions deserved the barest of explanations, Voldemort informed the couple that there was reason to suspect a traitorous family within the ranks. The husband and wife nodded, and accepted the _Veritaserum_ on their tongues more out of resignation than fear (each convinced that refusing to do so would automatically lead to their deaths).

As Voldemort expected, the Nott family wasn't as blindingly loyal as the Ashburns had been. When asked if they had ever defied the Dark Lord, they came up with two instances…their initial hesitancy when invited to become Death Eaters, and the sequestering of most of their wealth within a pound-denominated Muggle bank account (rather than within a Gringott's vault that could be accessed by the Death Eaters when there was need).

The Dark Lord had long known of the first instance, and had suspected the second.

Voldemort considered his options while the _Veritaserum_ wore off. It was a given that the Muggle account would be closed and the funds confiscated. There would also be "penalties and interest" applied to the couple, with said application to be both public and painful. But as for whether little Theodore was "The Chosen One"…the defiance was twice rather than thrice.

A thought occurred to Voldemort…that he could order Nott to kill his son, and if he refused that would make it three. But then he remembered that the Prophecy said that "The One" was born to those who had already thrice defied him. So it wouldn't apply…or would it?

Needing more time to think, Voldemort held another newborn in his arms as he ordered Snape to cast _Cruciatus _curses on the couple for their defiance. This allowed the Dark Lord to go back over the prophecy and review verb tenses a few more times. Finally convinced that the Nott baby couldn't be "The One", Voldemort ordered a halt to the torture. He then instructed Nott Senior to have the pound notes stacked in front of his throne within twenty-four hours, and declared that the newborn would be held as collateral.

If Snape was disappointed that he'd gotten a babysitting job out of this second visit instead of a blowjob, he was smart enough (and skilled enough) not to show it. With a hastily-packed and hideously-colorful nappy bag on his shoulder and a baby in his arms, Severus followed the Dark Lord out of the Nott residence and on to their final destination.

**oo00OO00oo**

The third child on the Dark Lord's list had been born that past May…as the seventh month on the Celtic lunar calendar died. That it was a baby girl, rather than a boy, was no basis for exclusion (since it was only the second portion of the prophecy…the part that Voldemort hadn't heard…that contained gender-identifying pronouns). It also mattered not that her parents weren't marked Death Eaters…while they professed neutrality, the family was nothing if not practical and pragmatic. If they thought that Dark rituals and virginal sacrifices would be needed to save their precious child, they wouldn't hesitate to perform them.

Voldemort, Snape and the Nott baby got a mostly cold, but respectful reception when they were received into the house (it wasn't a "chillingly cold" reception because the couple couldn't help but snicker at the look on Snape's face while he held a newborn infant). The family received their guests from a position of relative strength…they headed a rich and powerful clan that controlled most of the potion supply business within Britain. Neither Light nor Dark Side had therefore pushed them too hard, for fear of being cut off from this vital supply chain.

Pushed them too hard before now, that is…while Voldemort understood the need for this supply chain, he feared "The One" more than he feared the loss of ready access to bat wings and salamander eggs.

_Veritaserum_ was applied only after threats were made and a wand was thrust into the mouth of the ten-week old child, who was lying in a bassinet in front of her mother. Questions were asked, and then answered…the couple had knowingly defied the Dark Lord on three separate occasions, when they turned down recruitment offers made two years, one year, and six months previous.

When the potion wore off, Voldemort demanded that the couple accept the Dark Mark and join his side. For a fourth time, the couple refused.

The Dark Lord couldn't be certain that that this child was "The One," but she did meet the minimum qualifications (so far as he knew). Deciding it better to be safe than sorry, he bent down over the bundled child and began the incantation for the Killing Curse. A cry of immense pain that was layered on top of a cry of "No!" distracted him from this task. The Dark Lord looked up, and saw the child's father looking down at a stump where his wand arm used to be. New blood-spurting gashes then appeared across the wizard's chest, and he crumpled to the floor.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, and turned towards Snape, who had a baby in one arm and a raised wand in the other.

"Non-verbal curse?" he asked.

Snape nervously nodded. "Yes, My Lord."

"Interesting," Voldemort replied. "You'll have to teach me that spell."

"You honor me, My Lord," Snape replied, with wide eyes cast downwards.

"Yes, I do…don't I?"

The child's mother used the time spent conversing to leap down to the floor so that she could cover her daughter with her body.

"Don't kill my baby…please, I'll do anything, I'll take the Mark…just spare my baby girl!"

The Dark Lord looked down at the witch and scowled.

"Get out of the way, woman, there's no saving her from her fate!"

"No! You'll have to kill me first!"

Voldemort agreed to her terms, then kicked the witch's lifeless body away from the bassinet.

Snape's horror struggled to burst out from behind his carefully impassive mask. His Master was going to kill an innocent child?

The phrase "Yours is not to reason why," ran through the greasy git's head as he patted the Nott baby's back and watched nervously while the Dark Lord once again pointed his wand and called out, "_Avada Kedavra!"_

This time Voldemort wasn't distracted…although he might have wished that he had been.

The sickly green curse struck the infant's forehead, then rebounded and hit the Dark Lord in the chest. Voldemort then dropped face first to the ground as if he was a just-felled tree in the woods.

A good fifteen seconds passed before Snape's brain absorbed what had happened well enough to allow movement. He cautiously walked over to the Dark Lord's body and called out his name. When there was no response, he very gently reached down and turned the body over.

He immediately wished that he hadn't.

A chilling black mist escaped from the bloody nostrils of a just-broken nose and passed into Snape's open mouth. The potions expert convulsed in pain, and let the Nott baby slip from his hands so that he could hold his throbbing head. A presence within Severus's head sought entry, and he instinctively clamped down on the Occlumency shields that the Hogwarts Headmaster had helped him build that past winter.

There was a struggle that seemed like hours in length but was actually seconds, before the invasive presence gave up on its attack and dragged itself out of Snape's body. The black mist briefly coalesced in front of his face, then slipped out through an open window, and into the night.

Snape struggled past the pain and the cries of the two injured infants in order to access the situation. While he didn't begin to understand what had just transpired, he understood perfectly well the dire situation that he would face were he still there when the Aurors arrived.

Not wishing to risk having his Apparition traced, Severus decided there was only one "least bad" option…collect them all, and let Dumbledore sort them out.

The Potions Professor-to-be transfigured the Dark Lord's body into a portable piece of fruit. Pocketing the apple and Voldemort's wand, Snape gathered both infants against his chest and activated an emergency portkey to the Hogwarts Infirmary.

"Oh, my word!" yelled Madame Pomfrey, as she rushed to Snape's arrival point. "What have you there?"

Severus looked down at the bundles in each arm.

"This one is the Nott's brat," he announced with a head nod.

"As for this one," he added, as he passed the other bundle into the Matron's arms, "this is Daphne Greengrass…The-Girl-Who-Lived."

oo00OO00oo

A/N: So ends the first part of the story. The next chapter will jump forward eleven years.


	6. Chapter 6 Last Minute Mothering

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 6 – Last Minute Mothering**

_30 August, 1991_

Emmeline Vance chuckled as she stood in her godson's bedroom and watched Lily Potter cram in a few more minutes of mothering before he left for boarding school. This smile didn't mean that she lacked the same love or concern for young Harry's well-being. She had, after all, been almost as much a part of the eleven-year old's life as his parents had…even more so, in one key area. No, her ability to enjoy the byplay between mother and son was derived from having far more faith in Lily's careful planning that Lily herself had.

"Have you got all your books packed?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Owl treats for Hedwig?"

"They're right there on the side of the trunk, Mum."

"Wand?"

"Of course, Mum."

"Then what about your inhaler?"

"Yes, Mum…it's right here," Harry replied, as he pulled a small object from his pocket and held it out.

Lily frowned as she inspected the magical device that she'd invented nearly a decade past. It had always been a reliable method to feed Harry the orgasmic energy that he needed, and had done much to diminish the squick-factor associated with Emmy's role as Harry's "wet nurse" (even if that energy was created in a separate room, and out of his sight). But with her son going off to school hundreds of miles away, they wouldn't have Emmy available as a live back-up.

"And you have enough spare cartridges?"

"Yes, Mum…ten of them, each loaded with three square meals."

"And every one of those orgasms is strong enough to feed you, and keep your gifts a secret?"

"You'd have to ask Auntie Em about that, now, wouldn't you?" the young black-haired wizard replied, giving his godmother a wink.

"Don't get cheeky with me, young man…"

"Fine…let's just say that there's ever been a problem with her energy levels before, and leave it at that, okay?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to make sure you're safe and sound at school…you know that the Matron will have an emergency cartridge in the Infirmary, right?"

"Mum…relax!" replied Harry. "I know that Auntie Poppy knows about me, and will help if need be. But why do you think there will be a need? I'm going to be in a castle filled with three hundred hormonally-charged students, for Merlin's sake! I'll probably suffocate from all of the ambient sexual energy in the air!"

"Now, you don't know that for certain…"

"Oh, Mum…don't tell me that it wasn't like that when you and Dad and Auntie Em were students!"

"Never you mind, young man," Lily said, with hands on hips. "Unless things have changed radically, students will _not_ be wanking or shagging in the halls!"

Harry chuckled. "So I catch up with them the morning after? That, or...I've already got Dad's Invisibility Cloak and the mapped locations of all 127 of the castle's broom closets stowed in my trunk. I can always lean against the doors and soak it up as it's created on the other side." He paused, then quipped, "So do you want to tell me now how many of those naughty nooks have Dad's and your initials carved inside of them, or shall we leave it a surprise?"

"Oh, hush!"

"Or yours and Auntie's initials?"

"Harry!"

"Or more than two sets of initials?"

Lily Potter rolled her eyes and sighed, quite certain that no other mother in the world had an eleven-year old son who was as comfortable talking about sex with his parents as hers was. Or mature enough…or as well-informed.

That this was borne from necessity due to his heritage was completely beside the point.

"Come here, you!" she growled, pulling Harry into a hug. "I'm so sorry that you were forced to grow up so early…"

"I'm not Mum," Harry replied. "It's only because of my gifts, and that's not something that I'd ever want to give up…and besides, I wasn't forced to grow up early…I've always been big for my age."

"Well that's true enough," Emmy chimed in, as she joined the hug.

She didn't have to bend over to do so…Harry Potter's demon-side had always made him far bigger, faster and stronger than his peers. From grasping objects when he was a week old, to crawling at two months, and walking at six…and now, at age eleven, he was already a very muscular 5 foot 8 inches tall and nine stone and two in weight.

"Right then, time for bed," Lily declared as she patted Harry on the back and kissed his cheek.

"Yes, Mum…right away, Mum," he replied, using a sing-song voice.

"Don't you get cheeky with me, young man!"

"Yes, Mum…right away, Mum."

"Oh!" Lily hissed, slapping Harry on the arm. "I'm going to check on your sisters…I expect you to be in bed, and lights out in five minutes.

"Yes, Mum," Harry said with a brilliant smile.

When Lily finally left the room, he turned to his godmother/wet nurse and asked, "So…Auntie…what are you going to do with all of your free time once I'm away at school?"

"As if Nia and Morgan will let me have any free time?"

Harry nodded, and then rather suddenly blurted out, "Fetha 'ch" ("I'll miss you")

Emmy squinted a bit as she reached up to muss his messy hair. "Oh, no, Romeo…save the Welsh for girls more your own age."

"What…you mean you won't miss me as well?"

"Of course I will…now get to bed…I'll still be here in the morning."

"But will you be filling one final canister tonight? That's what enquiring minds want to know," Harry asked cheekily.

"Never you mind, mister!" Emmy growled, as she punched the arm opposite of the one Lily had slapped.

As the blonde-haired witch left Harry's room she spotted Harry's Mum coming out of his youngest sister's room.

"Both asleep, then?" she asked.

Lily nodded, and asked her best friend if she wanted to join her for a drink in front of the fire. Emmy shook her head, saying that she was thinking of turning in early, as there was really was a partially-filled inhaler cartridge on her nightstand. Harry's mum insisted that there was time enough for that later, and pulled her unofficial co-parent downstairs for some serious reminiscing.

**oo00OO00oo**

The two witches had the night to themselves, as James had volunteered to supervise the third shift, so that he'd be off and could bring Harry to King's Cross the next day. And they spent most of most of the night talking about Harry, his gifts, and the girls that would no doubt benefit from those gifts sooner than either hoped.

That the young demi-demon hadn't yet reached puberty was a topic that covered two full glasses of wine.

It was rather paradoxical…that a boy who appeared physically to be closer to 15 than 11, and who had been forced to learn about the "birds and the bees" well before his "ABC's", and completely aware by age four of what his godmother was doing behind that heavy curtain in his room, had not yet begun his physical sexual development. Aside from his tentacle growth, of course…those appendages, designed for sexual activity, could extend out twenty feet in length. But each tentacle was designed for the pleasure of others, rather than one's self, and was physically more like an arm than a penis (lacking the nerve bundles and pleasure points that would facilitate Harry's sexual release).

Lily or Emmy both had mixed feelings about Harry's lack of development. From the little they'd gleaned or guessed over the years about demi-Shikima, they feared that inhalers and indirect contact wouldn't cut it once their son's hormones kicked in...that the demon inside would insist on active physical participation in the creation of the orgasmic energy that he fed on. And neither witch wanted to think about their son shagging at an early age. But on the other hand, they worried that the farther off in time that puberty began, the closer Harry's experience would be to what his father went through when the magical bindings upon his demonic heritage came undone on his sixteenth birthday.

It would have helped if the Japanese witches and wizards who might have faced this situation had been more forthcoming... but nobody had been willing to admit to demonic heritage, or describe what having it meant, during second and third trips to Japan by the Potter family. And now that Harry was going to be off at Hogwarts for most of the year...they could only hope and pray that his puberty would kick in during the holidays. And that it would happen in a safer, more controlled environment, where (if need be) a half-dozen discreet "retired" Vestal virgins might be called upon to help Harry get through that transition.

**oo00OO00oo**

When Lily and Emmy finally made their way upstairs it was well after midnight, and well past two bottles of wine. Once checks were made on the children, Lily began to giggle, and tease Emmy about her plans to charge an inhaler cartridge. The blond-haired witch waggled her finger, and stated that she was quite certain that Lily would be filling a cartridge for James's inhaler just as soon as she was in bed (the same system that kept Harry discreetly fed had made it easier for James to keep his needs in check while he and his wife were both at work). Lily snorted, and decided that that was the best idea that she'd heard all night…but if she was going to do it, she wanted both some encouragement, and some company.

And this is how two giggling thirty-one year old witches found themselves in Emmy's "Naughty Nook," dressed in thin nightgowns, with inhaler cartridges and "chargers" in hand.

That these cartridge charges bore the appearance of foot-long dildos was entirely by design.

Lily cast a heavy silencing charm on the wall that divided Emmy's bedroom from Harry's, then plopped down onto the sofa next to her friend, and popped the cylindrical three-inch long cartridge into the back end of her flesh-covered "unit." The device magically came to life, warmed to her touch, and began to vibrate.

"How about _'Satyrs drag a nymph behind the bushes'_?" she asked, as she slipped off her knickers and threw a bared leg on top of her friend's.

"No, just asked for that one a few days back," Emmy replied, as her own 'charger' sprung to life in her hands. Having given up on knickers years ago, she didn't have to do nearly as much wiggling as Lily to get set up in a comfortable position. "Haven't seen _'Lesbian witches get caught sucking fanny in the broom closet by the Assistant Headmistress'_ in a while, though."

"Oh, yeah…a classic!" Lily said brightly, as she absent-mindedly rubbed the tip of her charger against a gown-covered nipple. "Just as long as the black-haired actress doesn't play headmistress…she's always looked far too much like Severus in drag for my liking."

Emmy snorted. "And whose liking would _that _image cater too?"

Lily giggled. "I hear Snape spends far more time in the Headmaster's office than any of the other Hogwarts staff."

"Gah!" Emmy gagged. "I thought we were going to be using the painting to help us get in the mood, not kill our mood!"

"Yes, yes," Lily replied. "So do you want to call? The echoes have always responded better to your requests."

"That's because I'm such a good stage director," Emmy replied brightly. She then called for Aleksander the echo, to make an appearance within the magical painting. She then explained with an exacting degree of detail just what they wanted to see on stage, and the scene began.

The cane swishing Headmistress was played by a big-breasted brown-haired witch that looked nothing at all like a cross-dressing Potions master. The two 'students" were played by oil-painted actresses whose roles had long ago been permanently assigned to them…one with red hair and green eyes, and the other the spitting image of Harry's wet nurse.

The two live witches turned towards each other and shared a tender kiss before getting down to work.

**oo00OO00oo**

The next morning, Lily Potter greeted her husband at the hearth with both an energy-transferring hug and a full inhaler cartridge. James didn't complain too much…he would have preferred a quick shag, but realized that Lily would want to spend as much time as she could with her son before she left to do whatever it was she did within the Department of Mysteries.

A morning rain shower kept the Potter family from breakfasting on the patio that overlooked the Welsh seaside resort of Aberystwyth. They didn't mind though, as their focus was very much inward that morning…while Harry's departure for Hogwarts was the main table topic, it was also the first day of primary school for his sisters, and they were just as excited as he was.

When the meal ended, Lily gave her three children last-minute hugs, took some last-minute pictures, and dispensed some last-minute advice to Harry before she reluctantly stepped into the hearth a few minutes before eight, and floo'ed to the Ministry. Deciding that he desperately needed a nap, James then headed upstairs to bed. This allowed Harry to spend a bit of time alone with his sisters, and volunteer to see them off to school. Harry didn't consider this to be a burdensome task…seven-year old Nia and nine-year old Morgan adored their big brother, and he wanted the chance to visit with some of the Muggle teachers at what was now his "old" school.

Declaring it to be his last best chance to use "the language of Myrddin," Harry insisted that they speak Welsh along the way. His sisters weren't all that enthusiastic…both girls identified more closely with their English-born mums than their Welsh-born father, and would have preferred to attend an English-speaking school. But when Lily had insisted that her children attend Muggle primary schools, James had insisted that those Muggle school's lessons be taught in his native tongue.

As the three Potter children stepped off of the public bus in front of the Primary School, Nia and Morgan spotted friends in the schoolyard and dashed off (after giving their brother a hug). Harry then walked into the school and spent a few minutes with its staff. Everyone there was glad to see him, and to offer advice about being "out there amongst the English."

Harry had been the school's star pupil…the kind of student that teachers knew would provide a capstone for their careers (each imaging retirement dinner speeches that could be summed up with the phrase "He (or she) taught Harry Potter"). It was much more than his size and athletic skills…when the black-haired, green-eyed boy wasn't winning foot races or hitting for six, he was coming out on top in spelling competitions and poetry readings. And that he competed _and won_ both English-speaking and Welsh-speaking contests…that was icing on the cake.

But perhaps the biggest reason why Harry had been universally loved at his school was his positive attitude. Quite simply, the young man was the nicest, best-mannered, and humblest boy you could meet. Harry had never used his superior size and strength to bully…in those few instances where he found himself in the Headmaster's Office, it was because he had jumped to the defense of others who were being bullied.

Harry even apologized for things that he couldn't have been responsible for! It was one of the only drawbacks to having the Potter boy in one's classroom. Strange, unexplainable things sometimes happened…like the time that his Year Four teacher overheard Harry's classmate suggest that he prank a different teacher by turning her hair blue. The instructor thought nothing of it, as she had spied the woman sporting her "normal" bleached-blonde look later that afternoon. It wasn't until Harry's teacher joked about the incident on the following day that the targeted teacher gasped, and confessed with a bit of embarrassment that she had somehow gotten a dayglo indigo dye job "down there."

No effort was made to confront Harry, though…not just because it didn't seem possible that he could do such a thing, but because the target didn't want to admit that she had already shaven off the evidence.

When the school bell rang and students spilled into the building, Harry took his leave with a smile on his face and topped-off energy levels. He had planned on heading down to the local University, and the "feeding grounds" that his father had introduced him to a few years past, but one of teachers in the primary school had insisted on giving him a hug, and in so doing unknowingly provided a power boost that she had generated earlier that morning in the shower.

It was something that happened all of the time to the young demi-demon…that in this instance the energy came from one of the prettier and younger teachers in the class was a bonus. Despite the fact that Harry knew that "energy was energy," there had been more than a few times when he had avoided physical contact with the Headmaster, or one of the mustachioed spinsters that worked in the lunch room, so as to avoid any benefit from their sexual practices.

**oo00OO00oo**

Harry arrived home in time to go back over his checklists and repack his trunk twice…once for Emmy's benefit, and the second for his father's. The young wizard then released his snow white owl with instructions to meet him at Hogsmeade Station, gave his godmother one last hug, and followed his father into the floo. He emerged a few seconds later in the Leaky Cauldron, where his father's two lifelong friends were waiting to give Harry their own proper send-off.

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, had almost been as much a part of Harry's young life as Emmy Vance. They had been his dad's mates when they attended Hogwarts, along with a fourth named Peter Pettigrew than nobody ever mentioned much.

Sirius, like James, was an Auror…although he had failed to move up the ranks like Harry's father had (considering career advancement to be perpetually low on his list of priorities). Sirius was a regular at the Potter family Sunday dinner table, and still made half-hearted attempts to flirt with Harry's godmother (despite the fact that she'd expressed her disinterest in his advances more than a decade ago).

That Remus visited the Potter's less often had more to do with his "furry little problem" then anything else. Once it became clear that the lycanthrope would find it near impossible to hold steady employment within a prejudicial wizarding world, James had hired his good friend to manage the family's country estate just outside of Godric's Hollow. It had worked out well over the years…James rarely visited his ancestral home, as it held too many horrible memories associated with the brutal murder of his parents. But there was still work to be done there… lands to be leased for the gathering of magical plants, and sheep to be raised (both for their wool, and to satisfy the dietary requirements of the Common Welsh Greens that lived in a nearby Dragon Sanctuary).

Harry knew about Remus's condition, and thought it hilarious that it was a wolf that guarded Clan Potter's flocks of sheep. He felt a little guilty about the fact that neither "Uncle Remus" nor his godfather knew about his own condition, but deferred to his father's judgment on the issue.

The three Marauders did a fine job of regaling Harry with stories about their glory days, and dispensing advice on how best to prank his Potions Master…so fine a job that they lost track of the time. The two Potters were thus forced to apparate into a King's Cross broom closet, rather than walk or hire a Muggle taxi.

Once James expanded the trunk that had been hitherto shrunk for convenient travel, he opened the closet door.

"Dad…your robes!"

"Oh, right…thanks son," James replied sheepishly, as he waved a wand down the length of his frame.

Harry, who had been stowing his navy-blue robes in his trunk, rolled his eyes at the sight of this transfiguration.

"Merlin, Dad…how many times do I have to tell you that gold chains and open-necked Edwardian shirts went out of style decades ago!"

"And how many times have I replied that if it's good enough to get knickers thrown at our Muggle country man, then it's good enough for me?"

There was nothing for Harry to do but to sigh as his father slipped his white shirt collar outside of his black leather coat… and to follow more than a few steps behind as James walked towards a rank of carts while whistling the tune to "What's New Pussycat?"

"It's really too bad we weren't here a few hours ago," the Potter Clan Chief lamented, as he helped Harry load his trunk onto a cart. "All of those lovely Muggle Englishwomen rushing to work, dragging along the energy generated by their quickies and toys…"

"Dad!"

"What?" James said with a grin, as he began to push the cart. "You're going to have to handle your needs on your own now…you've got to start looking for these kinds of situations."

"And I suppose that's Mum's opinion as well?"

James snorted. "If you don't know your Mum's opinion on the matter by now…or Emmy's opinion, for that matter…"

Harry let out his own snort, and shook his head. The ethics behind latching onto a stranger's orgasmic energy without politely asking had long been a topic of conversation at their house. Not that the number of times he'd talked about sex and his need to feed with his parents made it any easier for him.

Just then Harry's father let out a low whistle.

"Hello, hello!"

"Where?" Harry asked.

James nodded straight ahead, towards a mother and daughter who were pushing a cart in the same direction.

"Oh, my," Harry hissed, as caught the 'scent' of a powerful cloud of orgasmic energy. "You don't think she just…."

James shook his head. "Unlikely, given the time and place and her company. And that means, if it's been, say a few hours since…"

"It means that she's a bloody screamer in bed?"

His father chuckled, and pushed the cart a little faster. Harry didn't have to ask why.

"Too bad her daughter doesn't appear to have learned how to pleasure herself," James whispered.

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying, son... the apple never cums far from the tree."

"Yes you do say that," Harry quipped. "Far too often."

The two wizards were by now close enough to catch the mother and daughter engaged in their own whispered conversation.

"Mum, I've already shown you the ticket a dozen times…I'm to board the train at Platform 9 ¾!"

"But there is no such thing as Platform 9 3/4!"

"That's what you would have said about magic, before I got my letter, though…isn't it?"

James Potter smiled when he heard this exchange, and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, ladies, but I couldn't help but overhear your dilemma…perhaps my Hogwarts-bound son and I could be of some assistance?"

Mother and daughter froze upon hearing the word "Hogwarts," and turned their heads.

If first impressions really were meaningful, then the man who had spoken to them was a dandy, and his son a Romeo…at least from Hermione Granger's perspective.

"Hogwarts-bound, you said?" she asked, finding it hard to keep her eyes off of the smartly-dressed boy who stood a good eight inches taller than she did.

Her mother, finding the elder Potter to be far more handsome than she did, jumped in before a response could be given, and held out her hand towards James.

"I'm Emily Granger, and this is my daughter Hermione, and we would be grateful for your help, Mister…."

"Auror Captain James Potter, at your service, Ma'am," James replied, as he took hold of the offered hand and bent down to kiss it.

"_Merlin, he's smooth," _Harry thought to himself, knowing that the move would allow his father to hide his eyes when they flashed in response to the energy transfer that came with skin contact.

"I'm Just Harry," he then said with a smile, as he held out his own hand towards the daughter.

"Nice to meet you Harry," the girl replied, as she took the offered hand in her own.

"So Hermione, is it?" Harry asked, smiling widely. "Are your parents fans of the Bard, or are you truly a great king's daughter?"

Hermione blushed at the reference. "Well I'm certainly not a fellow of the royal bed," she replied with a small smile. "Or, for that matter, the mother to a hopeful Prince."

Harry chuckled in acknowledgment, and swallowed a ribald reply that would have acted counter to his goals.

"Looking to board the Hogwarts Express, then, Hermione?" he asked.

The bushy-haired witch nodded. "It's my first year, and everything is so new and different, and the Professor didn't mention hidden platforms …I suppose that you have done it many times before, then?"

Harry smiled and shook his head. "It will be my first time as well."

"No chance…unless…but does it…hadn't read….doesn't mean….couldn't be possible…"

"I'm just big for my age," Harry replied, answering all of the incomplete sentences at once.

Hermione wondered just how all-inclusive Harry's self-assessment was, and glanced down below his belt buckle. She instantly raised her gaze though, hoping that he hadn't noticed her pervy curiosity.

He had, but was gallant enough (and strategic enough) not to reveal that fact.

Hermione's mother saved her from trying to recover verbally from her faux pas.

"Look Sweetheart," she said, handing Hermione a business card. "This nice man is a magical constable."

The eleven-year old witch took the card that James had given her Mum and laughed out loud at what she saw. It was a magically animated business card that, in addition to listing Auror Potter's particulars, showed him walking onto the card from the left edge, whilst dressed in a Muggle tuxedo. The figure then stopped, turned towards the front of the card, and fired a curse from his wand. As "blood" dripped down from the top edge she asked, "Does the card come with a soundtrack as well?"

"Hermione…manners!" her mum chided.

"It does, actually," Harry replied. "Just need to say _'Potter. James Potter'_."

"Or ask and I'll sing it for you, young lady," James quipped.

"Gee thanks, Mr. Jones…too bad that there's no time for that," Harry quickly replied, as he looked at a station clock.

"Too right," his father agreed. He then offered his arm out to Emily Granger, and left it for Hermione and Harry to follow behind with their carts.

"So how do you two know about 007?" Hermione asked.

"My mum's parents were Muggles, and we live mostly in the Muggle world."

Hermione worried her lower lip with her teeth as she pondered his accent. "Welsh?" she guessed.

"Well played," Harry said with a smile. "We have a house on the coast in Aber. How about you?"

"English," she replied. "My parents are dentists. We live in a subdivision in Weybridge….completely and utterly boring, compared to your heritage."

"Now I wouldn't say that," Harry replied with a roguish smile (even though he could say it, by rights). "Bet you have a few tales to tell about releases of accidental magic."

Hermione replied by blushing a deep red.

"I suppose," she replied, using more of a squeak than regular speech.

Harry smiled, wondering what the story was behind the young witch's obvious embarrassment. He then turned just in time to watch her mother close her eyes and fall into his dad's arms. James looked back at the younger couple, winked, and stepped backwards through a brick wall.

"Where did they go?" Hermione asked with a gasp.

"To the train platform," Harry replied with a grin.

"Do Muggles have to be held like that to make it through?"

"No, but it probably helped," the black-haired wizard quipped. "Would you like a hug as well?"

Hermione's blush grew deeper.

"What would we do about our trunks, though?" she asked.

Harry paused for a moment of apparent thought, then smiled and snapped his fingers in an "Oh, darn!" gesture.

"We'll have to save that hug for next time, then," he replied. "Follow me."

Hermione watched with amazement as Harry pushed his cart straight through the false wall.

As she followed on towards the other side, she ignored the improbable nature of the route, and focused instead on the promise of physical contact…close physical contact with a very cute boy whom she hoped would become her first friend within the wizarding world.

And perhaps in a few years (if she could really wait that long), someone who might become more than a friend.


	7. Ch 7 All Aboard the Hogwarts Express

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 7 – All Aboard the Hogwarts Express**

Hermione Granger's new-found belief in magic didn't keep her eyes from closing tightly as she gave her cart a strong push through the fake wall that divided the Muggle and magical portions of King's Cross Station. She couldn't see, and didn't anticipate there being a crowded platform on the other side. Fortunately for her, James Potter had predicted her actions, and kicked his son's cart to the side just before the young witch barreled onto the platform.

"Hold on, there, Miss," the Auror Captain exclaimed, as he grabbed Hermione by the waist with one hand, and stopped her cart with the other.

"Oh, my…I'm so sorry…didn't think…really is…isn't it?"

"No worries, Miss Hermione," Harry's father said with a disarming smile. "Blind intersections like this one should be marked." He then waggled a finger at Harry and added, "Or at least cautioned against by those who know better."

"Hey, it's my first time too!"

James snorted, and recalled his wife's plea that their son be allowed to act his age, and given allowance for his relative inexperience within the wizarding world. After all, it had been their decision to raise their children in a Muggle city, and send them to Muggle primary schools…not Harry's.

"That it is, son…that it is," the Auror Captain therefore said with a smile, as he tussled Harry's hair.

"Hey, stop that," Harry protested. "I spent a good ten minutes trying to get it to lay down."

"Could've spent ten hours and it wouldn't have made a bit of difference," James replied with a smirk, as he ran his fingers through his own black bird's nest. He then turned back to the two women that they had escorted through the barrier and waved his arm out wide towards the steam engine train and platform.

"Welcome to Platform 9 ¾!" he announced. "Best clear the gate for all of the other last-minute stragglers."

"But it's almost eleven now," Hermione observed.

"Exactly," James said with a smile, as he guided Hermione's cart away towards the train.

Sure enough, a few seconds later a large group of red-haired witches and wizards popped through, one by one. But as Harry's small party was facing the opposite direction, they never saw the Weasley family's rushed arrival.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter," Hermione's mum asked, "but why is everyone dressed so strangely?"

James scanned the crowd and frowned. "You mean the fact that everyone is dressed in Muggle clothing?"

"Well, yes, I guess," Emily admitted, as her eyes flashed towards the Auror's frilly white shirt. "But I was thinking more about the style of Muggle clothes...there's so much…_color contrast_. And the fashions are all so…_vintage_."

Harry chortled as Mrs. Granger's carefully phrased response.

"I can try to answer that, Ma'am," he replied. "The average witch or wizard rarely spends time in the Muggle world. Our magic also extends our life spans…it's quite normal to see witches and wizards reach ages beyond the century mark. Put those two facts together, and you get wizarding world wardrobes filled with outfits that would moisten a costume designer's…"

"Harry?" his father interrupted.

"What…I was going to say 'lips'?" the young wizard protested.

"Sure you were," James said dismissively.

"But why are you dressed so smartly, Harry?" Hermione blurted out (before covering her mouth and blushing).

Harry snorted, and glanced down at his blue button-down shirt, crisply-pressed khaki trousers, and brown leather loafers.

"Well, I wish I could say _'Like father, Like son'_, but as you can see…"

"Hey!" James protested.

A blast of the train's whistle truncated this line of questioning.

"Right, we need to get you aboard," James stated, as he lifted Hermione's trunk onto the steps of the nearest car. Harry followed suit, allowing for just enough time to give his father a manly hug while Hermione said her goodbyes to her mum. The two Hogwarts-bound students then climbed up onto the open stairs of the passenger car, and waved as the train started to move away from the platform.

James and Emily waved back, and smiled when a sudden lurch in the train's movement caused Hermione to lose her balance and fall into Harry's arms. Neither made mention of it though, as each were lost in their own thoughts.

Emily Granger had all of the uncertainties of the unknown magical world that her only child was entering bearing down upon her, on top of any mother's "normal" worries about sending her child off to boarding school for the first time.

James, in turn, shared the same concerns that his wife Lily was experiencing as she watched her office clock strike eleven from her desk at the Department of Mysteries…

"How safe will our son be at Hogwarts Castle, where he will fall under the control of its Headmaster?"

It was a question that both felt justified in worrying about. There had been peace and prosperity within the Wizarding World during Harry's entire lifetime…ever since the Dark Lord was defeated by "The-Girl-Who-Lived." Voldemort's organization had gone into disarray soon after that fateful night, and there hadn't been a Death Eater attack since the revenge killings of the entire Greengrass Clan one week later.

Almost the entire clan, that is…for Dumbledore had never given the infant back into the care of her kin. Many said that it was a miracle that "The-Girl-Who-Lived" had once again defied death, and not been in harm's way when every single relative was brutally murdered in their sleep, but there had always been lingering doubts in James's and Lily's mind about the Headmaster's role in those events.

It had almost been too convenient…Dumbledore wasted no time in having himself appointed the child's guardian. Within days the Greengrass Clan's potion's business was being managed by Severus Snape and a hand-picked Board of Directors, while the heiress they were presumably working for the benefit of was placed within the home of a Light-side family closely allied to the Headmaster.

Or so he said…the identity of the Girl-Who-Lived's adoptive family and her exact location had both long been protected by _Fidelius_ charm.

And all the while, the Headmaster had privately expressed his doubts to Order members that the Dark Lord had been "vanquished," or that Daphne was "The One." He never bothered to explain the basis for those doubts, though, which made Lily nervous…nervous that Dumbledore was still looking for "The One with the power," and would find a way to work around the _Fidelius _charm that protected knowledge of Harry's true birthday. The last thing that they needed was for the old man to decide that their son should be more of a focus of his manipulative meddling than the girl who was supposed to be now riding aboard the _Hogwarts Express_ with Harry.

It had been a large enough concern for Lily to want Harry to enroll at Beauxbatons or Salem, rather than Hogwarts. But between James's high rank within the Ministry's Auror Corps and his seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, that was just as impractical an idea as had been leaving the country all those years past. There was nothing the three of them could do, but to plan, to pray, and prepare their son as best they could for the life ahead.

**oo00OO00oo**

Harry and Hermione stood on the stairs of the moving car and waved back towards their parents. Each was lost in their own thoughts, until they spotted a younger girl with straight red hair who was running down the platform, alongside the moving train. She wasn't watching where she was going and slammed face first into a sign post, bounced off like a rubber ball, and crumpled to the ground.

"Ouch, that had to have hurt!" Harry noted.

"I hope she isn't injured too badly," said Hermione, as they opened the car door and began to drag their trunks down its center aisle.

"She'll be fine," said Harry. "Dad's trained in first aid, and magic provides an amazingly well-cushioned safety net for amazingly dumb witches and wizards."

"Or for amazingly ignorant Muggleborns?" Hermione asked.

"Not so long as you keep asking questions, and stick by someone willing to provide answers," the black-haired wizard replied with a smile. He lightly touched Hermione's back and said, "My friends promised to save a compartment towards the end of the train."

"Oh, then you should go and sit with them, then," Hermione said quietly. "I can find a spare seat somewhere."

"Trying to get rid of me already, Bach?" Harry teased. "There'll be room for you with us, if you want."

"But is it what you want?"

"Why wouldn't I want to sit with you during the trip?" Harry asked with a smile. "Us outsiders have to stick together out amongst the English."

"Why outsiders?" Hermione asked. "Your parents are both magical, right? And I am English."

"No you're not, Bach," Harry said with a grin. "English is a Specky Git's state of mind, and you're no Specky Git."

"I'll assume that's a good thing, then?" Hermione asked.

"Of course it is, Bach," Harry replied.

Hermione frowned. "Why are you calling me Bach?"

"Because Mozart's phone was busy?" Harry asked cheekily. When Hermione huffed a bit, he added, "It's Welsh slang…would you rather I use the English and call you Luv?"

The bushy-haired witch blushed at the question.

"Thought not," Harry said with a smirk.

**oo00OO00oo**

The journey towards the back of the train took more than a half-hour to complete. It seemed to Hermione that every third compartment door opened as they passed, and somebody popped out to either give Harry a hug, or to invite him inside, or both.

It would have been impossible for Hermione to know that some of the hugs offered by some of the girls were making his inhaler superfluous, even if she hadn't been focusing on just how much older, and curvier, and flirtier they were. But she also was pleased to note that Harry looked a bit uncomfortable with all of the attention, and was apologetic to her for it. He explained that the students they were meeting generally fell into two groups…those whose parents worked in the Ministry like his did (and had met him at holiday gatherings and picnics), or those that knew Harry and his family as fellow countrymen (and had met him at holiday gatherings and picnics). It was fairly easy for Hermione to tell the difference, as the latter group tended to banter or flirt in Welsh.

One of the encounters were memorable than the others. Hermione learned the definitions of both "Mudblood," and "Specky Git," after a confrontation with a pureblood boy named Malfoy and his two goonish friends. When the blond wizard called her the former, Harry bloodied the boy's nose and called him the latter (describing a Specky Git as "the worst kind of bigoted, upper-class English shite").

Harry and Hermione made a beeline towards the back of the train after this incident, and finally found his friends sitting rather close to each other in an otherwise empty car.

"Well look, Susan," a handsome young brown-haired boy announced. "His Lordship finally decided to grace his friends with his presence."

"Oh, sod off, Nev."

"Does your mum know you talk like that out of her earshot?"

"Yeah, yeah," the black-haired wizard retorted. He then stepped to the side and gestured towards his traveling companion, and said,

"Hey Susan, Neville, meet my new bra…Hermione Granger."

"Bra?" the witch quickly asked.

"Don't mind Harry," Neville said, as he stepped forward and offered his hand. "He slips the odd bit of Welsh into the mix just to annoy his friends and confuse his enemies…I'm Neville Longbottom."

Hermione took the hand of the muscular boy that stood not that much shorter than Harry, and smiled.

"Pleased to meet you," she said.

A slightly overweight but pretty strawberry-blonde haired girl stood next to Neville and offered her own hand. "My name is Susan…Susan Bones. Why don't you ask _your_ bra to lift your trunk up and join us?"

Hermione smiled at the other girl's kindness and turned to Harry, who was already hefting her trunk up onto the overhead shelf.

"Thank you…br….well, is there a masculine form of bra?" she teased.

"Ooh, I like her, Harry," Susan beamed, as she pulled Hermione down onto the bench next to her. "It's about time I had some help matching wits with you twits."

**oo00OO00oo**

It didn't take very long for Hermione to suss out that Harry, Neville and Susan were close childhood friends, and that Harry's and Neville's mums were lifelong friends, and that their fathers both worked for Sue's Auntie, who had raised her from a very young age.

Susan's parents had been killed when she was still a newborn, and her Aunt had made a very strong effort to see that her niece was exposed to more of a family environment that she might provide as a spinsterish career officer within Magical Law Enforcement. As a result, Susan had spent a lot of time visiting the Potter family home on the Welsh coast, and Longbottom Estate outside of Oxford. And spent enough time around Lily Potter to pick up on her biting wit, occasionally caustic sarcasm, and sparing use of invective.

Although truth be told, the three children spent most of their time together ruling over the Potter family's lands up in the Welsh mountains. There were hundreds of acres of woodlands to romp through, and grassy fields to fly broomsticks over, and hills streams to splash through during the summer holidays. Frank and Alice Longbottom were happy for their son's time spent there, as their careers as Aurors frequently left their son in the care of his overprotective and coddling grandmother…the Longbottom Matriarch who ruled the house her son's family lived in with a sharp tongue and iron fist.

Just how close Neville and Susan were became clear when it was revealed, through Harry's teasing, that they had been betrothed to each other from the age of three. Neither Neville nor Susan knew much (if any) of this back story, so all they could tell Hermione was that they weren't all that upset about the arrangement…it was the way things were done in their world (or so they'd been told), and while neither of them was ready to consummate the marriage, they had grown to become close friends (and were pleased that the contract allowed them to develop that friendship in a relatively chaperon-free environment).

To say that Hermione was overwhelmed by the story would be understatement. It underscored her uncertainty about the world she was jumping into, and her fears that it might all spiral out of control. Most of the rest of the train trip was spent trying to assuage those concerns. Harry was quick to point out that his own parents would never try to arrange his marriage (although he failed to mention that one of the primary reasons for this was that his demon heritage would make it impossible for him to comply with a marriage contract's fidelity clauses). He also was quick to answer Hermione's many questions about magic in general, which served as an effective distraction.

Other distractions were provided by a lost toad, and visits by the sweets trolley and a pair of prefects.

The trolley came around first, and Harry thought that Hermione's refusal to try magical sweets was worthy of a belly laugh. But then he made up for it by explaining that the pumpkin juice found within every wizarding household's cool box was fortified by a magical supplement that completely eliminated tooth decay. That was enough to allow the young witch to enjoy both the chase and the kill when the chocolate frogs got loose (although she couldn't understand why both boys scowled when they both got Albus Dumbledore cards, and threw them out the window).

Then Trevor got loose, and there was a mad dash to find him. Hermione knocked on every single door in three different cars during this hunt…save for the door that was warded by a powerful "notice-me-not" charm…behind which sat a red-haired boy, a fourth-year Hufflepuff, and his adopted eleven-year-old sister.

Finally, just a few minutes before the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, the four soon-to-be sorted students were visited by a pair of older boys who each had a shiny badge pinned to their robes that was adorned with the letter "P."

"Are you Harry Potter?" demanded one of the Prefects, after slamming open the compartment door.

"Could be…are you a Weasley?" Harry asked. "You've certainly got the hair-color for it."

The older boy huffed.

"We're the ones asking questions here," he said icily. "That said, I _am _Percy Weasley, the Fifth-Year Gryffindor Prefect, and this is Adam Connah, the Seventh-Year Slytherin Prefect."

"Pleased to meet you," Harry said with a smile.

"How do you respond to the very serious charge that you struck another student in the face with your fist?" Percy demanded.

"How would you like me to respond?"

"With a confession, of course!"

"Judge, jury and executioner?" Harry asked.

The Gryffindor grew red in the face. "This is a very serious situation! Draco Malfoy's father is on The Hogwarts Board of Governors!"

"And so is my father," Harry replied calmly. "So is Neville's grandmother, for that matter." He turned and said, "Hey Nev, why don't you pull her into this and they could make it a threesome?"

"Wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, mate."

"Oh, so Draco's daddy almost qualifies, then?" Harry said with a smile. He then turned back towards the prefects and waited for them to say something.

The Gryffindor prefect was speechless, and was now sporting a complexion that matched his hair coloring. So it was up to the other boy to act.

"Let me handle this, Percy," he said. "We both know that Malfoy will be sorted into my house, so it'll officially be my concern soon enough."

"Very well," Percy sputtered, before he walked off, muttering about the insolence of youth.

Once the Gryffindor was out of earshot, the Slytherin Prefect surprised Harry when asked in Welsh for him to step out into the aisle for a private conversation.

"So what really happened, boyo?" the older student asked, once they were alone.

Harry shrugged.

"Meh, the blonde-haired English ponce had his nose so high up in the air that when he called my buttie a mudblood…he didn't notice my fist and walked straight into it."

The Prefect snorted, and swore.

"Mun…you are going to make my life difficult, aren't you boyo?"

"Far less than that poofy scrut…unless of course, I'm sorted in with your lot."

"Think that'll actually happen?"

"Probably not," Harry admitted. "The hat can suss out those from the Hollow."

"Gryffindor, then?"

"Smart money would go there," Harry replied.

"It'd be a pity for you to have to have to put up with that Weasley and the broomstick that's stuck so high up his English arse," the Slytherin admitted. "Although, we're short on Cymry in the Tower right now."

"There you go, then," Harry replied with a nod. "Look if it'll help you any, I'll take a detention…so long as it isn't with Snape."

The prefect arched an eyebrow.

"Volunteering for a detention? Are you daft?"

Harry chuckled. "Well if I'm to have any chance of breaking my father's detention record, there's no time to dawdle."

The prefect laughed. "You are a cocky one, Potter!"

"Says the valley-loving trog!" Harry replied. He then held out his hand and said, "Cymru am byth!" (Wales forever!)

The older boy clasped Harry's arm up close to the elbow and declared, "Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn!" (The Red Dragon will show the way!). They parted on good terms, and Harry returned to his compartment for a relatively peaceful end to a very long train ride.


	8. Chapter 8 An Incindiary Sorting

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**A/N: **A pervy Sorting Hat has already been done by jbern in"The Lie I've Lived," but it's just too perfect not to use here.

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 8 – An Incendiary Sorting**

The cry of, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" brought a smile to Harry Potter's lips.

"C'mon, Bra," he said, grabbing Hermione's hand. "Got another friend to introduce you to."

The bushy-haired witch didn't know where to place her focus…on the fact that Harry had taken her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, or the wild-haired behemoth that was calling for the firsties to gather around.

"Hey, Harry!" the giant bellowed from a fair distance. "How's your mum's knockers?"

"I should think you'd know better than I would, Hagrid," the young wizard called back with a smile. "Still sharing a bed with Fang?"

"Nah, e's got to slobberin' too much on me pillow."

Harry introduced Hermione to the Hogwarts groundskeeper once they made their way towards him, and tried to ignore just how much orgasmic energy the half-giant was radiating off of his body. In lieu of an energy-transferring handshake, the young wizard gave Hagrid a carefully-placed one-armed hug around his coat-covered torso, and guided the half-giant's handshake towards Hermione's.

After promising to swing by Hagrid's hut for some tea within the next few days, the quartet boarded one of the small boats that was primed to traverse the lake. Given Harry's size, Hermione and he were forced to sit hip-to-hip on the bench. Not that she objected, mind you…especially when Harry declared he needed some "elbow room," and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. The physical contact was completely innocent, so far as she (and anyone else who saw it) could tell…but that didn't mean that she didn't appreciate it (especially when the flotilla pushed off and a cool breeze crossed the lake).

Hermione gasped when they cleared a small point and got their first view of her new school. But she still had a few questions, so she ignored the castle and inquired about Mrs. Potter's mine-dwelling faeries and Hagrid's pony-sized pet. Once she got these answers she sat quietly, and reflected on what she had learned over the past several hours.

Hermione Granger was a very bright girl, and had, in the short time she become aware of the wizarding world, read all of her school books from cover-to-cover (and given the thickness of _Hogwarts, A History_, that was saying something). But her three companions had all grown up within wizarding households…households that had bookshelves filled with those very same books. So not only had they read histories of the wizarding world…they had also lived within that world long enough to put those written words into a perspective that was often more adult than adolescent. They even knew things about Hogwarts that weren't written down! (Although, to be honest, Hermione was a bit slow to recognize the benefits of knowing that there were more than a hundred different broom closets within the castle.)

The Muggleborn was somewhat put-off by the fact that she wasn't the expert on everything that mattered…during her somewhat lonely primary school career, being the teacher's favorite student and the brightest in her class had served as the foundation for her self-esteem. Now, she was clearly behind the curve, and couldn't even hold court as the "Tree of Muggle Knowledge"…Harry had been raised with one foot planted in each world, and Neville and Susan had visited Aber enough times to know how to spell "electricity" without a "k", or how to work a microwave (which they all charmingly called a "poppity-ping").

And then there were the other paradigm-supporting pillars that had crumbled around her that day…Hermione's firm convictions that: a) authority figures always ruled in the public's interest; b) if it was written in a book, then it had to be true; c) if it wasn't written in a book, then it must not be important; and, d) her place was obviously within the wizarding world.

The Ministry's discriminatory laws against lycanthropes and a retelling of parental opinions about the disposition of The-Girl-Who-Lived's estate hit the first. A brief discussion about The-Girl-Who-Lived and some of the glaring inconsistencies in the differing accounts of what happened that night struck the second, while Neville and Susan's betrothal and the system of arranged marriages further undermined the third. And finally, Harry's off-handed comment that his grandparents (had they been alive) would have probably forbid his parents' marriage because his mother was a Muggleborn killed off the fourth.

The impact of this paradigm-shifting data dump was profound. Things might have been different an alternative universe…a world in which (just as an example) Harry had been muggle-raised, and they were friends with an incurious pureblood. In that world, she really really might have known more than her friends about the wizarding world, despite how little she truly understood. She might have pushed on as she had in Primary School, convinced that her success in the wizarding world was self-determinative, or that her self-worth was dependent on her recognition as the "brightest witch in her generation."

But in this world…with knowledge of the prejudice that she would face, and these new-found friends…a far different path was embarked upon. This Hermione Granger would listen more than talk, and be seen a bit more than she was heard (at least while she was within the wizarding world). This Muggleborn witch would question authority, and question the motivations of others. Trust would become a far more important commodity than knowledge…at least until she became convinced she knew how the game was played. And for now, that trust was to be placed with the three who were within her boat.

When Hermione leaned against Harry's side, and rested her head lightly against his shoulder, he thought it was because she was a bit cold. But in truth she wanted that contact…she needed that contact…it was calming…and an anchor. And if she were to make a go of it in this world, then she would do whatever was necessary to stay close to the handsome young man who had for some reason befriended her, and already defended her honor.

**oo00OO00oo**

When Hagrid's giant-sized fist knocked three times against a heavy oak door, it was opened immediately by a graying witch wearing emerald robes. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, and led the group into a small room that was adjacent to the Great Hall. As Harry followed along he couldn't help but notice what his father had accurately predicted that he'd encounter…a good deal of energy trailing behind the old witch. Except that this energy seemed a little off…wilder, and more feral than "normal" orgasmic energy.

Harry's assessment was cut short when McGonagall officially welcomed the new students. She talked briefly about the school's House System, and informed the group of that evening's sequence of events.

Draco Malfoy pushed forward and interrupted the Transfiguration Professor with complaints about Harry Potter's "barbarously uncivil attack" aboard the train. Minerva pursed her lips, and primly replied that she had been made aware of the incident, and that the matter would be taken up by the Heads of whatever houses the two of them were sorted into. This pleased the blond-haired ponce to no end, as he was quite certain that he'd end up under the purview of his godfather. Professor McGonagall caught Harry Potter's eye during the balance of her presentation, and before leaving the room gave him a slight frown that impossible to decipher.

As soon as she exited, the Hogwarts ghosts showed up to offer their own kind of welcome. They were mostly ignored, however, as the majority of young wizards and witches broke into small groups to discuss the sorting process, which was supposed to kept secret for its new students. This, of course, meant that everyone already knew about the hat, except for a few Muggleborns, and those gullible enough to believe their older siblings regarding the necessity of wrestling trolls.

The group that huddled around Harry had grown, and now included Susan's friend Hannah Abbott, as well as the other two First Years students from Wales (Megan Jones and Wayne Hopkins). The pooled information that they shared was particularly accurate and relevant. The sorting was done by a sentient Hat that used to sit on Godric Gryffindor's head. This hat was charged with the duty of distributing each class into sub-equal house sizes, each with subequal numbers of wizards and witches. While the hat was supposed to base its decisions on the characteristics of each student, it was open to suggestions if a person had a preference. That said, the hat didn't like to be bullied into its decisions, and wasn't averse to shaking things up with a counter intuitive choice.

But the most vital bit of trivia discussed was the fact that the sorting was done in alphabetical order, and that Hannah would be first under the felt. She wanted to be in the same house as Susan, but it would be Susan who'd have to make that request after her friend's sorting, and she'd have to consider what house her betrothed would go to. Neville, in turn, had to balance a similar desire against his grandmother's expectations that he'd be a Gryffindor (if there was a conflict), or that Harry would most likely go to that house…and he thought it more important that Sue have a female friend in her dorm than a boy friend if she couldn't have both, and…

Needless to say, the scheming wasn't anywhere close to being resolved when McGonagall returned and ordered the First Years into lines that walked silently into the Great Hall.

While most of the new students cast their eyes up to the enchanted ceiling, Harry's were busy scanning the tables of already sorted students. It was difficult for him to get a sense of just how much orgasmic energy was available within each house…there was a fair bit of distance between the four tables, and any of the "signals" that he might have been able to pick up were swamped by the interference that was coming from the much closer Head Table.

"_So Sirius was right,"_ Harry thought to himself. _"The Professors really are a bunch of wankers!"_

The black-haired wizard's attention turned to the Sorting Hat and its song…his mum had cautioned that the lyrics were never the same, and that specific verses might hold clues to that year's sorting criteria. But there wasn't anything particularly striking within the stanzas, and the "standard" set of qualities described for each house. Harry still thought that a case could be made for his placement within any of the four…it would all be a matter of who went where before it was his turn to sit on the three-legged stool.

Hannah Abbott was indeed called first, and after a few moments of silence the hat (which was wide enough to completely envelop her head) placed her in Hufflepuff House. The blond-haired witch gave Susan a pleading look before walking out to join her fellow badgers.

"Bones, Susan," was next. When she placed the hat on her head, it opened its mouth and asked, "More pig-tails? Is this the new style, then?" There was some laughter that the hat relished before it got down to work. Fifteen seconds later, it spoke out.

"Have faith in your betrothed, and have fun in HUFFLEPUFF!"

Susan gave Neville one of "those" looks (that was frankly far too mature on an adolescent's face) before taking a seat next to her deliriously happy friend.

A boy named Terry Boot was sorted into Ravenclaw, and he was followed by a blonde-haired witch named "Brown, Lavender." There was a jolt of _something _that hit Harry when she pushed through from the back of the lines. It wasn't food-grade energy…more like a small snack. The demi-demon snorted in recognition…while Miss Brown hadn't experienced a recent orgasm, it wasn't for lack of effort.

This observation led Harry to add a mental tally mark into the Gryffindor column when Lavender was sorted into that house.

Harry watched Hermione cautiously walk up to the stool when her name was announced. The sense of excitement and eagerness that he'd seen within her eyes earlier that day was gone, and he felt a little guilty for being the one to have burst her bubble. She did ask an awful lot of questions… but there was something about the Muggleborn girl…something that made him want to get to know her as a friend. And to be a friend…to the point where her sorting had become just as important to his set of calculations as Susan's or Neville's.

The Hat sat quietly on Hermione's head for twenty seconds before pronouncing judgment.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The bushy-haired witch wore an unreadable expression as she slipped the hat back onto the stool. She glanced out at Susan and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table, then back towards Harry. He tried to make her feel better with a smile, a nod of the head, and the mouthed assurances that, _"It'll be fine."_

There was a buzz of excitement within the Hall when the name of The-Girl-Who-Lived was called right after Hermione's. Some had wondered whether she would have taken the name of her adoptive family, but it was 'Greengrass, Daphne' who stepped forward.

The lanky black-haired girl slowly pulled the hat from the stool's seat. She sat down, and before she was even able to drop the hat onto her head it bellowed out "GRYFFINDOR!"

Daphne frowned, and her eyes darted first towards the Hufflepuff table, then towards the Head Table. The Head Master gave her a grandfatherly smile, and nodded his head. When the young witch didn't immediately move from the stool, Dumbledore gestured with his hand, as if giving her a slight push. She finally nodded, and made her way towards the Gryffindor table, where red-haired twins were dancing a jig and singing, "We got Greengrass! We got Greengrass!"

Harry's countrymen were sorted in the following few minutes, with both Wayne and Megan going into Hufflepuff. He had mixed feelings about this result…while it would have been nice to have someone in his house year that spoke Welsh, the two treated him more like Owain Glyndwr than "Just Harry".

Neville Longbottom flinched a bit when his name was called. His black-haired friend, who had been standing by his side, placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and whispered into his ear.

"Just remember this boyo…my dad loves Sirius and Remus like brothers, but it's my mum that shares his bed."

Neville snorted, smiled, and nodded his head slightly as he made his way towards the stool. Harry wasn't at all surprised when his mate was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff House.

When McGonagall called out "Malfoy, Draco," the blond-haired wizard grinned and strode confidently up to the three-legged stool. He snatched the hat from its perch, and held it well above his head while he sat down. Draco stole a glace towards his godfather, who was sitting at the Head Table, then set his eyes firmly towards the Slytherin table and slowly lowered the hat towards his head. He stopped when the hat was still six inches above his brow, and waited.

For ten full seconds Draco held the Sorting Hat just above his head…ten seconds of uncomfortable silence, during which time the boy's confident smile turned upside-down. Then, the Sorting Hat's "mouth" opened, and it called out, "Get on with it little boy…it's not like I'm not going to mess up your fancy coiffure…too much."

The young Malfoy scowled as laughter erupted throughout the Hall, and he slammed the hat down onto his head. The intense "discussion" that then took place kept the blond-haired wizard from hearing Ted Nott cry out with delight, and brag to Blaise Zabini that he'd just won a ten galleon bet that he'd made with Draco. But the laughter and cries quickly died down once the Sorting hat began to verbalize its side of a very plain-spoken conversation.

"It matters not who your father or godfather is…no, it's _your _qualities that matter, not his…do you really think…did you even listen to my song?....No, of course not, you hardly think at all, which makes Ravenclaw right out…I care little that you care so little about the Claws…well you are right there, you'd be a disaster in Hufflepuff…just?… loyal?…patient?…hard-working?…hah!...What?...Why you little prick!...Just proves my point, doesn't it? You are about as cunning as an oversized bludger, and just as dense…arrogant…more like a bloody....Well why not?...Act before thinking…daring, you got that in spades, not to mention nerves…what about chivalry, you ask? Hmm…guess you were listening after all…yes, yes…I agree completely, there isn't a chivalrous bone in your body, but you've got to go somewhere, and two out of three ain't bad, so better be….Oh! Why you little shite!….That does it…you're just lucky I don't have arms…put me down on the floor and I'll bite your kneecaps off!"

"Erm…Mr. Hat…a decision?" asked a surprisingly nervous Headmaster.

The Sorting Hat's mouth folded into an evil grin. It held that expression for a moment, then bellowed out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

And the crowd went wild.

Amidst all of the uproar and chatter, Malfoy slammed the Sorting Hat down onto the floor and pulled out his wand. It was only the quick thinking of the Hogwarts headmaster that allowed the rest of the First Years (and all future First Years) to be sorted, as he quickly cast a strong flame freezing charm that protected the Hat from Draco's incendiary hex. This protective spell was immediately followed by two strong stunners cast by Professor's Flitwick and McGonagall which struck the young wizard square in the chest.

The Headmaster's firm hand placed on Snape's shoulder kept the Potions Professor from either retaliating against his colleagues, or from finishing the job that his godson had started. There was a quick huddle at the head table, after which two prefects were called forward to drag the petrified body of Draco Malfoy back into the room that he'd came from with the other First Years.

One of these prefects was the Seventh-Year Slytherin whom Harry had met on the train. As he helped drag the petrified body past Harry, the older boy winked and whispered, "Twll din pob Sais!" (literally, _"Every arsehole, an Englishman!_). The black-haired wizard snorted, and nodded in agreement as Draco Malfoy made his last appearance within the Great Hall for a good long time (three years, to be precise, but that's getting ahead of ourselves).

**oo00OO00oo**

Once the Girl-Who-Lived had been sorted and the smoke cleared from Draco's attempted arson, the remainder of the sorting process was anticlimactic. Owen…Moon…a pair of cute twins that got split between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor…and then a girl named Parkinson who, from Harry's perspective, definitely had cooked up some pudding …quite unusual for an eleven-year-old. But she got sorted Slytherin, where none of his friends had gone…and then it was the Welsh scion's turn.

"Potter, Harry."

The black-haired wizard sat strong and tall on the stool, as he looked out towards the Hall with hat in hand. There was a low murmuring of questions about his size and age…questions mostly asked with breathless feminine voices. He smiled and nodded towards the friends that had gone before him…Susan was sandwiched in between Hannah and Neville at the Hufflepuff table, while Hermione turning a bit blue in the face as she held her breath over at Gryffindor.

Harry pressed his fingers into the top of the hat, giving it more of a fedora's crease than a pointy tip. He then set the Sorting Hat on his head at a rakish angle, and pinched the front of the brim between his thumb and forefinger.

Giving Hermione a wink, he then drawled, "Here's looking at you, kid."

This Bogart imitation (and that's with one "g", not two, thank you very much) was good enough to make Hermione laugh. This, in turn, made her take in a fresh supply of oxygen, which was...as Martha Stewart might say..."A good thing." The stunt also proved an effective way of sifting out laughing Muggleborns within the crowd (as well as at the Head Table…the Arithmancy professor almost fell off her chair, she was laughing so hard).

"Are you quite done?" the Sorting Hat asked out loud.

"Erm…sorry," apologized Harry.

"Then drop your shields, boyo, and let me have a bloody look inside your head!"

Harry was rather worried that his Occlumency training had just been revealed, before he realized that the Hat's request had been made mentally, rather than verbally.

And more importantly, it had been made in Welsh, rather than English.

The balance of Harry's chat with the Hat continued in his native tongue.

"You speak Cymraeg?"

"Of course I do, Bach…do you think Godric would wear a hat fashioned by some scruty poofter from London?"

"Scruty poofter?" Harry asked. "And I suppose that Godric used the same slang that I do?"

"No, you idiot, you're to believe that by looking into new minds each year that I can keep up with changes in languages and dialects…if I couldn't then I'd be singing and sorting in Old Welsh, rather than the Queen's English!"

"Oh, well, that makes sense, I guess."

"Glad you approve, you cheeky whelp."

"Sorry, didn't mean to offend you…"

"Oh stop right there with the arse kissing…it won't help you any."

"Not like you have an arse in the first place."

"Which is too bad...because if I did I'd be pinching off logs on top of your noggin' right about now."

"Heh, heh…very funny."

"Thank you very much, I'll be here the rest of the week, try the veal and don't forget to tip your waitress."

Harry couldn't help but vocalize his chuckling, which raised a few eyebrows within the room.

"Shall we push on then?" Harry asked. "I'd wager that Draco's performance already has the feast behind schedule."

"That's too damn bad, then," the Hat replied. "Right…what have you got to show…oh, my now that's not something you see every year."

"What?"

"What do you think?" the Hat snapped back. "Merlin you've seen a lot and know a lot about sex at your young age, don't you?"

Harry gave a mental shrug. "You are better positioned to make that comparison than I am, I guess."

"True enough, although why I didn't see the demon within your father…oh, so it was blocked, eh?"

"So he says."

"Interesting…might have to try and convince the Old Man to let me sit on your head again in a few years…you've got a shagadelic future."

"That you want to perv on?"

"What else do I have to look forward to?" the Hat demanded sarcastically. "Oh, yes, I can hardy wait to be thrown back onto the shelf and start collecting dust again while I compose the new Song for next year…I'm so lucky."

"Well, if there's any hope for that, then you'll need to sort me in the right house, eh?"

"Meh…wouldn't matter…this castle is full of wankers."

"So would you rather rifle through future memories of circle jerks in the boys dorms, or hot sex with a half-dozen witches?"

"Good point," the Hat tersely replied. "You do know that Godric issued standard orders to put all of his future heirs into his house, right?"

"Yes, which is fine by me, because that's where I want to go."

"Really?" the Hat asked. "But the way you carry your secret…the cunning involved…you could do great things in Slytherin!"

"It's more like whom I'd do there," Harry quipped. "That Parkinson girl would work, and the Davis girl has lots of potential, but…Bulstrode?"

"Eh, I worked with what I was given…what about Hufflepuff, then…I gave them some good breeding stock this year?"

"Hey, that's my friend you're talking about," Harry whined.

"Which one? I could see the Longbottom boy bending over and grabbing ankles for you."

"Oh, stop," Harry protested. "Just put me in Gryffindor please. It'll make Godric happy, and dad happy, and…"

"And make you happy once you start shagging?" the Hat asked. "Don't really see it…unless you just want to boff The-Girl-Who-Lived. Although…that Brown girl…do you know that after meeting you on the train she rushed to the loo and tried to rub one off?"

"Erm, no, actually," Harry replied. "Thought you were supposed to keep what you see in a student's head secret?"

"I didn't have to read her mind to figure that out, Potter…I could smell her lust for you!"

"So you've got a nose, but not an arse?"

"Never you mind, boyo," said the Hat. "So, if I put you in Gryffindor, will you promise to give me a look every now and then?"

Harry shook his head and sighed. "Yeah, I promise, you pervy bit of felt."

The hat smiled, and said out loud (and in English), "Then I better see some truly magnificent things from you in the future, Mr. Potter….in GRYFFINDOR!"

There was a round of applause in response to this decision, although it was probably due to the fact that everyone was tired of waiting for the meal to begin. Harry slipped the hat off of his head, set it down upon the stool, and walked towards the Gryffindor table with a wide smile on his face. The square footage of pearly whites exposed by this smile was exceeded only by what Hermione Granger put on display as he sat down next to her.

"Oh, Harry, thank you!" she gushed. "I was so afraid that after Neville…and Sue…almost wet myself I was so nervous…"

"Hey, no worries, Bach," Harry replied brightly, as he reached down and steadied her knee (which was bouncing up and down underneath the table). "We'll see those two around the castle, and there will be lots of chances to make good friends in this house."

"You think so?" Hermione whispered.

"Of course," Harry replied, as he looked down the length of the table and grinned. Hermione would be sharing a room with one of the cute South Asian twins, as well as The-Girl-Who-Lived…and The-Girl-Who-Rubbed…and further down the table there were some fine looking older witches…

But then the red-haired boy who had been convinced about wrestling trolls got sorted Gryffindor, and sat roughly on Harry's other side. And when the black-haired wizard turned to offer feint congratulations, he looked past Ron Weasley towards the Head Table and caught sight of the hooked-nose arse who was dressed in obscenely expensive robes.

Snape. Severus Bloody Snivellous Snape.

And in the center of that table, "The Old Man" with his too long white beard, and too long fingers reaching into everybody else's cauldrons.

So Harry's spirits dipped a bit, and he began to worry about what was in store for him at Hogwarts.

But then he thought about Draco Malfoy's departure…and food arrived on his plate…and Hermione gave his thigh an innocent touch when she asked him to pass the butter….

And the memory of his father's cheeky reminder...that his heritage would allow Harry to "literally deal with more than one arsehole at a time"...allowed him to enjoy the rest of the evening.


	9. Chapter 9 Settling In

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 9 -Settling In**

Hermione Granger thought that she'd risen sufficiently early to catch Harry Potter in the Common Room before he left for breakfast, so she was rather surprised to find him already there…although from the look of his bleary red eyes, she feared he might never have left.

When asked how he slept, Harry responded, "Not very well…Hoover was sawing logs all night."

"Hoover?"

"Yeah, you know…the carrot-top who sat next to me last night and sucked his dinner plate clean?"

Hermione giggled. "Oh, you're terrible…his name is Ron. Ron Weasley, right?"

"Erm, yeah…I guess…youngest brother of Three-pee."

"And Three-pee is…."

"Percy the Perfect Prefect, of course."

"Harry!" Hermione chided, with a warm smile that softened the scolding.

"What?" Would you rather I call him an 'Effing Sky Pilot?' like Lucky Charms did?"

"Lucky Charms?"

"The Irish kid…Seamus Something...though to be honest, I'm leaving it to Hoover to determine whether he is magically delicious."

The bushy-haired witch sighed, and nodded towards the bulletin board.

"What's that?"

"Quidditch announcement," said Harry. "They're holding tryouts tomorrow afternoon."

"I thought the trials are traditionally next weekend?" Hermione asked, as she peeked over Harry's shoulder at the posting. "At least that's what it says in _Hogwarts, A History_."

A two-part response was provided as the Weasley Twins strolled down the stairs.

"I'll think you'll find…"

"That our beloved…"

"And becursed…"

"Quidditch team Captain…"

"Is always dead serious…"

"When it comes to training for the new season," replied Fred and George.

"Is that so?" Harry asked, as he turned towards the Twins.

Fred nodded, and replied, "We need a new Seeker, and Ollie isn't one to sit on his arse hoping that our Head of House will scout one out for us."

"Oh, I see," said Hermione. "Seeker is…that's an important position, from what I've read."

"Yes indeed," said Fred. "Almost as important as being a beater!"

"What happened to last year's Seeker?" Harry asked.

"He graduated," Fred replied. "We had a promising reserve, though."

"Dead right," added George. "Ollie already had Katie Bell's name on the Number Seven jersey, but then she went and grew titties over the summer."

"And added a stone in weight…"

"Though to be fair, most of that went straight to her baps…"

"So no now our Dear Captain has declared Katie too big to be a seeker, and has moved her to the chaser line." George announced.

"That's….that's so sexist!" Hermione huffed.

"It's also a load of codswallop," Harry added. "Catrin is ten stone two and has a huge pair of knockers…doesn't slow her down any."

"Who?"

"Catrin Mills, the Harpies' Seeker," Harry replied. He then remembered Hermione's origins and added, "The Holyhead Harpies are the professional Quidditch team that I follow…they field an all-female side."

"Oh, what a surprise," Hermione snarked.

"Hey, it's not that…they're a Welsh Team."

"So are the Catapults, though," noted George.

"Ba! Only a valley-loving trog could root for Caerphilly!"

"Ah…so they're the South Wales team, then…and Holyhead is in the North?" Hermione asked.

"Spot on, Bra," Harry replied with a smile. "Glad to see they bothered with proper geography lessons in that English primary school of yours."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "So this Catrin the Seeker who weighs ten stone two…she owns a pair of mine-dwelling faeries?"

"Not that I'm aware of…this time I was describing her…aerodynamic profile."

"Oh! You're such a…such a lad!"

"And that's why you love me so, eh Bach?"

The Muggleborn's blush ended the bantering. She muttered something about checking on her new roommates, and rushed up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

"Say, if she can fly as fast as she just ran…" Fred mused.

"And she's certainly got a flat profile…"

"Hold it right there, boyos," Harry warned. "Hermione is a Muggleborn…doubtful that she's been on a broom before. And there'll not be any more talk of her profile, either."

"Oh, rather protective, aren't you now?"

"Not to mention bold…for an Ickle Firsty to stand up to Third Years that way…"

"Especially Third Years who have a flair for keeping Ickle Firsties in their place, like we do…"

"Is that a threat?" Harry asked. "I've already bloodied one arsehole's nose for insulting Hermione…"

"Now, now…no need to speak of physical violence," Fred replied.

George nodded, and started to twin-speak.

"We were referring to a much more noble art of pranking."

"A gentleman's pursuit…"

"Not to mention poltergeists pleasure…"

Harry snorted. "So you two are the pranksters that your older brother warned us about last night?"

"Who…"

"Us?" Fred and George asked with matching grins.

Harry chuckled. "You don't know whom you are talking to, do you?"

"Of course we do."

"You're Harry Potter…the biggest Ickle Firsty we've seen in some time!"

"That's right," Harry replied. "I'm a Potter…the son of James Potter."

"And we should worry about that because…?"

"Because my godfather is Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin is like an uncle to me?"

"Yes, and?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, bollocks, now I've got to write a letter home and give Dad the bad news…he claimed that the Marauders' exploits would remain legendary for generations."

"Hold on…"

"Did you just say…"

"Something about the Marauders?"

"Erm, yeah…that's what Dad and his mates called themselves," Harry replied.

"No way…"

"Can't be…"

"Unless, of course…"

"It is."

While Harry shook his head dismissively, Fred asked, "And your Dad and his mates…don't suppose they used nicknames to conceal their identities?"

Harry arched an eyebrow and replied, "Perhaps."

The Twins shared a silent conversation. George then turned back to Harry and asked, "So I suppose that makes you Little Wormtail?"

Harry scrunched up his face as if he'd just eaten something foul.

"Oh, bloody hell, no…ought to hex you both for even thinking it!"

"Ah," Fred said sagely. "You have given us much to think about, Ickle Firsty."

"Well I'm happy for you," Harry replied. "So does that mean that I don't have to write that letter home?"

"Of course you do," Fred replied with a smile. "Just inform your dear father that you've been sorted in with two of his admirers who solemnly swear that they're up to no good."

"You want me to write home using those exact words?" Harry asked.

"Write home about what?" asked a voice from across the Common Room.

Fred turned and frowned at the sight of Percy heading their way.

"Oh, nothing much Percy-kins," he replied. Fred then pointed towards the board and said, "Just that Ollie is holding tryouts for the House team."

Percy frowned in Harry's general direction. "Well, I can't see how it would matter to a First Year."

"Why is that?" Harry asked. "Is there a rule against new students trying out for the team?"

The Fifth-Year Prefect straightened his shoulders and proclaimed, "I am not aware of such a rule. That said, you should be well aware of the prohibition against First Year students bringing brooms to school."

"So?"

George snorted. "What Lord Gitmore here is implying is that a First Year trying out for the team would have to use one of the school's broomsticks."

"And they're not exactly fast..."

"Or maneuverable..."

"Or manufactured within the current century…"

"Fly like shite, when you get right down to it," George declared.

"Language!" Percy admonished.

"Yes, mum."

"No, I really mean it!" Percy declared.

"So I can't just write home and ask for a broom to be sent along?" Harry asked.

"Of course not," Percy huffed. "There'd be no difference between that and bringing your broom from home in the first place."

"Not a bad idea, though," Fred observed. "Hey Percy, why don't you write home and ask mum to send along your head?"

"What?" Percy huffed.

"No need, Fred," George replied. "Percy brought his head along. You just can't see it because it's still stuck up his arse!"

"Really?" asked Fred. "I thought that was a stick stuck up his arse. My bad."

"Enough!" Percy thundered.

"I couldn't agree more, dear brother," Fred replied. "We've had enough of you…so run along and polish your Prefect's badge."

"Unless you need to polish your wand instead," added George.

Percy grew even more blustery, which only goaded his younger brothers to keep at it.

"Reckon' he's already polished his wand in the shower this morning?" asked Fred.

"Dunno. Perhaps he's gotten up the nerve to ask Miss Clearwater to polish it for him?"

"Think she's the polishing type?"

"Asking the wrong Weasley, don't you think?"

The Twins both nodded, then turned towards their older brother, and in unison asked, "So?"

Percy gritted his teeth, turned, and strode out the Common Room entrance before he went against his own admonishment regarding bad language.

Fred and George shook each other's hands with a smug look of satisfaction on their faces, then turned to Harry.

"You know, even with a decent broom you'd be a bit too meaty to play Seeker," George observed.

Harry shrugged. "Again, Catrin swears she's ten stone two, and I'm less than that." He ran a hand down the front of his robes and added, "And I've not got her profile, either."

"That can be arranged, you know," Fred quipped.

Harry snorted, and declined the offer.

"What's this about Catrin?" George then asked. "Make it sound as if you're her friend, or something."

Harry nodded. "More like a friend of the family...We've had Harpies season tickets for as long as I can remember, and mum and dad hosted a doo for the Welsh National Team that Catrin played on…right before World Cup."

"Lovely," Fred said, with some real admiration in his voice. He turned towards the stairs and asked, "So did you happen to see if our little brother was awake? Percy's the perfect prefect, but it's us that Mum will blame if he's late for his first day of classes."

"Didn't see him, but he was still snoring behind his curtains when I came down."

"Right, then," said Fred. A game of 'rock, parchment, wand' was played, and the winner (Fred) got to go up and prank Ron out of bed, while George headed towards the Great Hall with Lee Jordan, their dreadlocked mate.

Harry declined Lee and George's invitation to join them, saying that he had promised to wait for Hermione. The black-haired wizard then pulled quill and parchment from his bag, and sat down at one of the Common Room's tables to compose a brief letter.

The eleven-year old demi-demon sat close enough to the dormitory stairs to catch the eye of several of his House mates as they made their own way towards the Great Hall. There were many friendly introductions, with some friendlier than others…Harry had to politely decline several offers (mostly from groups of older girls) to help him find his way to the Great Hall. While these interruptions did make it hard for him to finish his note, there was an upside in that it allowed him to passively assess the local "feeding grounds."

By Harry's count, a little less than one-half of his House had developed some orgasmic energy since the sorting. While his senses couldn't determine exactly how those orgasms were obtained (and with whom), he had, over his very young life, learned to pick-up on clues and tell-tale indicators that allowed him to winnow the shaggers from the wankers…to separate those who had company when they came from those who flew solo. Now, just because Harry was far more clued into sex and relationships than the typical eleven-year-old boy didn't make him omniscient…while he could spot energy levels at an instant, it took more than one data point to decide on the amount of coupling involved.

And the truly ironic point about this ability was that at this point in Harry's life, it was more of an intellectual exercise than anything else…while he was well past the "girls have cooties" stage, he was still prepubescent, and lacked the hormone-fueled obsessions with the opposite sex. That said, the green-eyed wizard knew that puberty was coming, and been warned about what might happen and how strong his needs might be when it did. So it never hurt to keep one's eyes open, or to take good notes, or to wonder how it came to be that all five of the female Sixth Years were dragging the same levels of orgasmic energy behind them.

Or why it was that Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson were all a bit flush in the face and full of energy when they introduced themselves (full of energy, that is, until they shook hands with Harry, and once again made him wonder if there would ever be need of his inhaler at Hogwarts). That meeting also allowed the First Year to personally assess Katie's profile (it was far from flat), and to ask a few more questions about Oliver Wood and the tryout process.

Fred Weasley came back down the stairs while Harry was talking to the Chasers, and was happy to walk with them to breakfast once the First Year turned down their invitation. This group of four was nearly knocked over near the portal, when Fred's youngest brother barreled through with robes half done, muttering about the fact that there were only fifty minutes remaining for breakfast.

A few minutes after Ron rushed by, the four First Year witches finally made their appearance within the Common Room. Introductions had been made the night before, and Lavender and Parvati were quite pleased with the fact that Harry was able to greet them by name. As for Daphne Greengrass, The-Girl-Who-Lived? Less so…she mumbled her greeting with eyes down at Harry's feet, and with her arms clutching a book bag tightly against her chest.

Hermione gave Harry an almost imperceptible head shrug, as if to say "Yes, well, that's how she is," then suggested they all walk down to breakfast together. Lavender and Parvati thought that to be a fine idea, while Daphne said nothing. She did follow along, however, as Harry took the lead with Hermione on his left, and Lavender on his right (the rock, parchment, wand battle with Parvati for that right had already been fought back in their dorm room).

"Sorry it took so long," Hermione said, while they descended the Tower's stairs. "Parvati and Lavender tried to tame my horrid hair with some concoction called Sleekeazy's." She then gave the green-eyed wizard a rueful grin and added, "As you can see, it didn't work."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "Teach not thy lips such scorn," he advised, "for they were made for kissing, Lady, and not for such contempt."

Hermione looked down and blushed. "Have you memorized all of The Bard's lines, then?"

With a rakish smile, Harry shook his head and admitted, "Only the naughty parts."

The green-eyed wizard then felt someone squeeze his arm. He turned and arched an eyebrow at Hermione's dorm mate.

"Well that doesn't bother me," Lavender replied with a breathless voice. "Tell us some more!"

"How about this then?" Harry asked. He gave Hermione a wink, then took in a deep breath and intoned, "Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none…unless they be specky gits."

A soft, melodious tittering caused Harry to glance over his shoulder, and he smiled at the sight of Daphne Greengrass covering her mouth.

A punch to his shoulder distracted him away from The-Girl-Who-Lived's mirthful expression.

"Hey!" he protested.

"Hey nothing, Harry," Hermione growled.

The black-haired wizard chuckled to himself, then turned his head back towards Daphne. With a rather loud stage whisper, he then confided, "Me thinks the Lady doth protest too much!"

"Not hardly enough, though, if your bantering keeps us from getting our class schedules," warned Hermione.

But Harry's arm was saved by his masterful navigation through the hallways and moving staircases, and it was only a minute or two more before they entered the Great Hall.

Daphne Greengrass may have wished it took longer than that, though, because as soon as they made it past the doors the whispering and chattering began.

"There she is!"

"Who?"

"The Girl-Who-Lived, silly!"

"Where?"

"Right there…next to that dark-skinned witch!"

"Did you see her?"

As focus shifted towards Daphne, Harry and her three dorm mates silently (and spontaneously) shifted positions, so that she was shielded front, back and sides as they approached the Gryffindor table and took their places.

When the Great Hall's windows opened towards the end of breakfast, Harry's familiar was one of a hundred different owls that swooped down with the morning mail. Hedwig proved very popular with Harry's female companions, and was more than willing to take a rasher of bacon off of five different plates.

"Why is your owl here if she hasn't anything to deliver?" Hermione asked, as she watched Hedwig playfully nip on her owner's ear.

"Because she's the smartest owl in the world…and the prettiest too…goes without saying," Harry beamed, pulling two letters from his robe pocket. "And she always knows when I need her to deliver something."

As he attached a letter to each foot with bits of string, Harry said, "So Hedwig, I need you to deliver the note to Mum and Dad first, then go to Gwenog Jones and wait for a reply…think you can keep that straight?"

Before Hedwig bobbed her head "yes," and flew out she gave Harry a disapproving nip on the ear, as if to say "Of course I can!"

"Never would have guessed you a Harpies fan-boy," Ron stated, at the same time he chewed on a piece of toast.

"What's wrong with following the Harpies?" Harry asked, as Hedwig launched herself towards the opened windows.

"They're not the Canons!"

"Yes, you're absolutely right…the Harpies are not a bunch of pathetic losers."

"Hey, now, they've set themselves up well for the upcoming season!"

Harry waved off Ron's assessment with a dismissive gesture.

"If you say so, boyo."

The argument was truncated by the arrival of their Head of House with their schedules. As the First Years began to discuss what books were needed, and what their classes might be like, McGonagall tersely informed Harry that he was to report to her office later that afternoon.

"What's that about?" Hermione whispered, once the Transfiguration Professor moved on to other students further down the table.

Harry shrugged. "Probably about the fight on the train yesterday."

"Oh," she replied quietly. "I hope you don't get into too much trouble on my behalf."

The black-haired wizard smiled and reached out to cover the bushy-haired witch's hand.

"No worries, Bra…and no use wasting the day worrying about it, especially when there are far better uses for our time."

Hermione's cheeks flushed as her ears heard the word "our" and her brain started to drift into warm and fuzzy places.

**oo00OO00oo**

That he was waved towards a comfortable sofa by the fire rather than the "hot seat" in front of an imposing desk was the first good sign that Harry's visit to the office of his "Auntie Minnie" would be cordial.

That a house elf delivered tea service while his Head of House sat next to him was the second.

"It's still lemon and one sugar, right?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes, please, Professor."

Minerva looked up, frowned, then closed the door to her office with a flick of her wand.

"No need for that when it's just the two of us, Harry."

"Yes…Auntie Minnie?" the First Year asked with a smile.

The older witch chuckled. "Don't push your luck, Harry…so let's dispense with the business first. Your altercation aboard the train is so much water under the bridge in light of last night's show. That said, I trust that now you are a Gryffindor and now that certain…catalysts have been removed from the Castle that there will be no more fisticuffs?"

The black-haired wizard nodded. "Yes, Ma'am…does that mean that Malfoy's been expelled?"

"That's not supposed to be any of your concern, young man."

"Ah, so they haven't yet held an emergency meeting of The Board of Governors?"

"Why would you think that there is one?" Minerva asked with a smile.

Harry snorted, and replied, "Auntie, I may not have been sorted Ravenclaw, but there wasn't a spare bed in our dorm room last night, and he wasn't in class or at meals. And since his daddy is on the Board of Governors, and since the Malfoys have never been shy about asserting their….concerns…"

With a slight tilt of her head, the Assistant Headmistress replied, "I can neither confirm nor deny that such a meeting was held this afternoon, or that the votes were in hand to uphold the Headmaster's seemingly-reluctant decision."

With a chuckle, Harry held out his hands is if they were each side of a balance scale.

"So all of the Malfoy money, power and influence on one side…balanced against the attempt to destroy a priceless Founder's Artifact and the means by which every Hogwarts student had been sorted for a thousand years…."

McGonagall's eyes brightened a bit as she reached out and added her thumb to the second side of Harry's scale. "Add in the embarrassment of his son being sorted a lion, rather than a snake, Harry…once the Board reaffirmed that the Hat's sorting decisions aren't subject to change, Mr. Malfoy's efforts to keep young Draco enrolled at Hogwarts lost all of their stridency."

"You sound so disappointed, Auntie," Harry replied brightly.

Minerva chuckled. "Yes well…Gryffindor's loss is Durmstrang's gain."

Harry nodded. "So that's where he's off to?"

The black-haired witch shrugged her shoulders. "That's my guess…Beauxbatons is a possibility, given that the Malfoys have family over there, but I suspect that Mr. Malfoy might have more leverage over the current Durmstrang Headmaster."

The Gryffindor Head of House then sighed, and shook her head. "And there I go again…these are more the worries of your father, rather than yourself." She reached out to touch Harry's knee and asked, "So how was your first day of classes, dear?"

Harry snorted. "Class, Auntie…only had History of Magic today. A very pleasant nap…is that really the most qualified instructor?"

"Ah, yes, well….Professor Binns can't be cited for lack of experience."

"Can't be cited for a having a pulse, either!" Harry snarked. "Honestly, Auntie…I know you warned me about him over the summer, but are the school's finances that bad?"

"School finances?"

"Yeah, that's the only explanation that makes sense…cut the staff budget by hiring a ghost…what kind of salary and benefits does a ghost get, anyway?"

Minerva shook her head. "I'm certain that Professor Binns would say that the joy of teaching is benefit enough."

"Well, we're getting what the school is paying for," Harry whinged. "I'd be careful, Auntie…next thing you know the Headmaster will be asking Nearly-Headless Nick to cover your classes."

"Yes, well…we'll worry about that when it happens," Minerva replied. "So, run-ins with ponces and Fifth-Year prefects aside, you've settled in?"

Harry nodded. "It's about what I expected...the pudding is just as good as Mum said it'd be, the dorms just as drafty as Auntie Em said they'd be, the witches just as pretty as Sirius said they'd be…"

"Ach, Merlin help us if Sirius Black has shaded your perceptions of our school!" Minerva replied.

Harry chuckled. "Well, Auntie, you've had just as much of a hand shaping expectations over the years, right? And I dare say that I'll benefit from your teaching and guidance and wisdom…and I'm sure to succeed now that I'm far away from my godfather's bad influence."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Now you're laying it on rather thick, Harry…save the flattery for witches who are closer in age."

With a waggle of his eyebrows, Harry replied, "No worries, Auntie…I've got more than enough charm to go around."

"Yes, well you are the son of James Potter and his wife the Charms Mistress, aren't you?" Minerva asked rhetorically. She sat her tea cup down and added, "So is there any hope that you'll stay clear of Professor Snape and out of detention for at least the next few days?"

The young wizard grinned as he put down his own tea cup and stood. "Well, I don't have potions until Friday, Auntie, but even so…it's like you said."

"What's that?" Minerva asked, as she showed him towards the door.

"I am my father's son," Harry replied with a wink.

"Yes, that's what your mum and I are afraid of," McGonagall replied, as she tussled his mess of black hair.

The look of affection upon her face vanished in a flash once the door opened, as the Head of Gryffindor reestablished the facade of an "arms-length" relationship between herself and the oldest child of her dear friends James and Lily Potter.


	10. Chapter 10 Bedknobs and Broomsticks

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 10 – Bed knobs and Broomsticks**

When Hedwig flew into an opened kitchen window of "Ty-yr-Hydd" (the house of the stag) with a letter addressed to "The Potters", she thought nothing of holding a leg out towards Emmeline Vance…Harry's familiar was, after all, a very smart owl, and she knew that his godmother was a Potter in everything but name.

Emmy, in turn, knew that Nia and Morgan wouldn't allow the letter to remain unopened until their mother came home from work, or their father back from an emergency Board of Governor's meeting. And she was just as excited to hear from Harry, so she opened the letter, and distributed the separate notes that her godson had thoughtfully written to his two sisters.

The two young witches were thrilled to learn that their brother had been sorted into Gryffindor (even if they were disappointed that he didn't reveal to them exactly how that decision was made). Emmy, after reading the much longer message that had been written for adult eyes, was thrilled that Harry had managed to keep his tentacles from popping during the confrontation with Draco Malfoy (or the encounters with older flirty witches, for that matter). At the same time, she was chuffed that the Sorting Hat was such a perv…a close inspection of her godson's memories would have revealed more than a few times in which he'd accidentally seen her naked while she was "cooking some pudding" in the Naughty Nook, or walked in while she was sharing a "nap" with his mum and dad.

Once they arrived home, James and Lily echoed Emmy's sentiments. Harry's father came back from his meeting with independent information about the events that his son had described within the letter, and they were all pleased to see just how well Harry's version matched up. They were also glad that he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, where his "Auntie Minnie" could watch over him, but at the same time nervous that he was in the same house with The-Girl-Who-Lived.

When dinner was done and Nia and Morgan had their baths, Lily and Emmy informed James that he would be putting the girls to bed while they wrote the parental response to Harry (as they had better penmanship, and a bit more tact). There also would be less chance that Harry would learn something from the Board of Governors meeting that he shouldn't…now that he was a Hogwarts student, they all clearly saw the need to avoid even the appearance of impropriety, for fear that it it'd be used by James' political opponents (a group which, sad to say, to some extent still included the school's Headmaster).

Emmy and Lily were finishing up at the kitchen table when James came downstairs from the girls's rooms.

"I've got Nia and Morgan's contributions," he announced, placing a hand-drawn picture and a parchment filled with dense lines of script on the table. He chuckled, and added, "I wonder if Morgan's note contains more questions than Harry's new Muggleborn friend had for him?"

"Oh, hush, you," Lily admonished. "I think it sweet that he's taken this girl under his wing…don't know how I would have survived my First Year if someone hadn't helped me."

James scowled. "Oh, yes…we all owe Snivellous our eternal gratitude for his sniffing around your knickers."

"Don't go there, _James_," his wife scolded. "I don't recall you acting that way when you were a First Year…you were too busy thinking up pranks with your mates."

"Yes, yes, I was a terrible git before you got hold of me and showed me the error of my ways."

"And you showed her the length of your tentacles," Emmy quipped.

"Didn't hear you complaining after your first showing!" Lily protested, as she lightly swatted her best friend's arm.

"Or second, or third," Emmy said, as she waggled her eyebrows. "Although it did hurt a bit after that fourth time, when he buggered us behind the Quidditch Stadium."

"Stop!" Lily chided. She then turned and swatted her husband's leg. "And get that dreamy look off your face!"

James shook his head and blinked. "Sorry, couldn't help but rememb…that was the first time with all three of your dorm mates wasn't it?"

Emmy laughed. "It was, wasn't it? And we were all sore afterwards, and walking funny back towards the castle, and Minerva spotted us and sent us to see the Matron! Oh, it was so hilarious…Alice and Carol were both convinced that we'd be expelled for anal sex!"

Lily sighed. "And it was a lucky thing that Poppy already knew about Demon-James and covered for us."

"Lucky thing she taught us that lubrication charm too!" Emmy quipped. "Ah, Good Times!"

With a roll of her eyes, Lily signed the letter that she'd just completed and spelled the ink dry. "Right, so now that we're thoroughly off the cart path…better get this off so that he'll have it for breakfast."

"And so we can all get to bed?" James asked hopefully.

"Is that the same thing as getting a good night sleep?"

"Not if I have any say," James muttered, heading up the stairs.

Lily rolled her eyes…both she and Emmy had heard her husband's comments. But as she watched Milo fly out into the dark night, she worried her lower lip with her teeth.

"Emmy?"

"Yes, Lils?"

"You know the offer still stands, right?"

"And what offer is that, Luv?"

"Oh, please…must I spell it out?"

"Yes actually," Emmy replied with a smile, as she walked behind the other witch and pulled her into a hug. "I like it when you talk dirty to me."

Lily shook her head and giggled. "Right then…would you care to have my husband stuff his big blue cock up your fanny and fill you with enough spunk to wash your womb?"

"And this offer is different than all of the others because…"

"Because I'd be countering your contraceptive charm before hand, and making certain that you get the child that you've always wanted to have!"

"Hmmm…" Emmy hummed, as she reached up and cupped her friend's breasts through the fabric of her lightweight robes. "You'll have to get down really close to cancel that spell, won't you?"

"You've never minded me sticking my nose down there before."

"Nor you tongue, for that matter," Emmy teased, punctuating her quip with a pair of pinches.

"Hey!" Lily protested, as she clamped her legs together and covered Emmy's hands with her own. "I'm trying to be serious here!"

"Then you'll never get between my legs," he friend quipped. "That dog still doesn't get the message that I'm not interested in him!"

"You know what I meant."

"Yes, I did," Emmy replied, as she nuzzled her face against the side of Lily's neck. "So why now?"

"Besides the fact that we've shared cycles since Fifth Year and I know that you are ovulating?"

"Yeah, besides that."

"Well…it's a little quiet around the house now that Harry's at school, and you won't be nearly as busy filling cartridges for him…sounds as if half of the witches at Hogwarts can feed him with a handshake…"

"And you've discussed this with your husband?"

Lily snorted. "He's as much your husband as mine…and yes, we've discussed it."

"And he's willing?"

"When is my demon-spawned husband not willing?"

"Good point," Emmy replied, as she nibbled on Lily's ear. "So would you be there with us, if I said yes?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Emmy snorted into her friend's auburn hair, and then asked, "Because you're almost as much my wife as his wife?"

Lily caught her breath, then leaned back into Emmy's embrace.

"I'd like to think so," she replied.

"Good," Emmy replied brightly, as she let go of Lily's baps and stepped back. "Because it just wouldn't seem right to shag _your _husband unless I also got to shag _his _wife."

When Lily turned around she discovered that her companion was now sitting on the edge of the kitchen table with wand in hand. A moment later, banished robes and undergarments were on their way to the dirty clothes bin, and her spread-legged friend was skyclad.

"Let's get rid of that contraceptive charm," Emmy purred, as she reached down to spread herself even wider for Lily's inspection. "And as long as you're in the neighborhood…"

"Looking for a good depilatory charm?" Lily asked with a grin.

"I'd rather look at your mouth clamping down on my fanny!"

Lily smiled, as she swung a chair around in between Emmy's knees. "I'll see what I can do."

It only took a few minutes for Emmy to wonder if they'd ever make it upstairs to James.

It didn't take that much longer for James to sniff out Emmy's first release, and head back downstairs for a midnight snack…a snack that turned into a successful fertilization amidst a seven-course meal.

**oo00OO00oo**

It took the threat of a fork stab to the hand to twist Harry Potter's attention away from the Great Hall's windows the following morning.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Oh, honestly Harry…have you heard a word I've said all breakfast?"

Parvati Patil, who was sitting across from the pair, reached out and stilled the hand that held the silver-plated weapon.

"Give him a break, Hermione," she said. "And let him act his age."

"And what does that mean?" the bushy-haired witch demanded.

"That means," offered Daphne, who was sitting between Parvati and Lavender, "that he's an eleven-year old wizard who has got Quidditch on his brain, rather than our first Charms class, or Shakespeare…"

"Or snogging," sighed Lavender.

"Hey!" Harry protested. "When have I acted like I've got snogging in mind when I've been around any of you?"

Lavender smiled, batted her eyelashes, and reached out to cover Parvati's hand that was still covering Harry's.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry…I must have been thinking of someone else."

"Yeah, like yourself Lavender," offered Daphne Greengrass, with a smile.

Harry arched an eyebrow…it was the first time that he'd heard The-Girl-Who-Lived crack a joke. And it was about snogging? This fact would have fascinated Harry, had he really not had Quidditch on the brain.

"Here they come!" he announced, pointing towards an inbound flock of correspondence.

Harry's impatience was rewarded, and then some. First it was Hedwig that swooped down carrying a large tube-shaped package…then Milo, with a letter from home. And finally, trailing behind all of the rest, two very large eagle owls carrying a long rectangular crate in tandem.

"Yes!" Harry hissed, as he punched his fist in the air.

"Bloody hell!" Ron swore, as the owls dropped the box onto Harry's and Hermione's laps (it was that long). "Is that what I think it is?"

"Dunno, mate," Harry replied brightly, as he scavenged rashers of bacon from any plate within reach and offered them up to the eagle owls. He then glanced at his wrist where a watch might have been and added, "Well, would you look at the time? Better get all this back to the dorm before class!"

"Not so fast, Mr. Potter," huffed Percy Weasley, as he strode down the side of the table.

"What?" Harry protested.

The First Years all felt an imposing presence that was well-dressed in black.

"It pains me to agree with a Weasley spawn, Mr. Potter," hissed Severus Snape, who had flown from the Head Table almost as if he were a post owl himself. "But I think that we all would like to have our curiosities satiated."

"I'm sorry, _Professor _Snape," Harry replied, hissing the title as if he spoke parseltongue, "but I wasn't aware that Hogwarts staff had the authority to intercept owl posts, or demand their inspection."

"Of course that authority exists," Percy snapped. "There need be only a reasonable suspicion that the contents of that post either violate school rules, or would facilitate such a violation. And as I reminded you only yesterday about the prohibition against First Years bringing broomsticks to school…"

Harry only heard the first part of Percy's pomposity, his attention torn away by a summoning spell that ripped the box off of his lap.

"I'll take this back to my office to check for any dangerous hexes or jinxes…for your own safety, of course," the Potions Professor sneered, as he patted the box that now sat in the crook of his arm. "And should its contents prove as innocent as you seem to claim, then it will be returned to you at some later point in time."

A hand placed on Snape's shoulder caused him to whirl around violently with his wand extended and a hex on his lips.

Minerva McGonagall frowned, and calmly pushed Snape's arm to the side so that his wand was no longer in her face.

"While I appreciate your _obvious_ concern for the well-being of one of _my _students, this is more the responsibility of one's Head of House, wouldn't you agree, Professor?" she asked. "Or should I begin to concern myself with all mail delivered to Slytherin House, so that I might extend the same courtesy and concern that you are now displaying?"

Snape scowled for a few moments, before he redirected his wand tip towards the box and cast a half-hearted detection spell.

"The box is free of hexes," he declared. "So long as your student seems to think that he's done nothing wrong, then perhaps the easiest way to resolve your prefect's suspicions is for Mr. Potter to open it here and now?"

Snape's Percy-enabled jujitsu placed Minerva in a difficult situation. She sighed, and then turned towards Harry.

"Mr. Potter, do you know what is inside this box?"

"No."

"Do you have reason to suspect what might be in the box?"

Harry paused for a moment, and then shrugged. "Yes."

"Assuming that your suspicions are proved out, would the receipt of this package violate school rules?"

Harry smiled, and shook his head. "Not according to my understanding of school rules."

"Then, Mr. Potter…if you would be willing…"

Harry stared at his Head of House for a moment, before nodding slightly. Once Snape grudgingly sat the box back down upon the breakfast table, Harry drew out his own wand, and ran it along the edge of the lid. Once he completed this traverse, the lid popped open, and the black-haired wizard pushed it to the side. By now the entire Great Hall was watching the confrontation play out, with more than a few Slytherins angling for a better view by standing on top of their table (which was placed farthest from Gryffindor's). Harry pushed away some straw, and tissue paper, and pulled out…

"Bloody hell, Potter," Ron Weasley swore. "That's a Nimbus 2000!"

"Language, Ron!" Percy scolded. He then turned back towards Harry said, "That certainly looks like an illegal broomstick to me."

"Well it isn't an illegal broomstick," Harry declared, as he snatched the broomstick away from Snape's reach. "It's game-used memorabilia."

"What are you on about?" demanded Percy.

"It's not a personal broomstick brought to school by a First Year student," Harry declared. "I didn't bring it with me aboard the train, and it didn't come from home…it came from Holyhead." He then reached into the box and pulled out an engraved plaque with two hooks for a broom handle to rest upon. "And see here…a wall-mounted plaque…says this broom was used during a league match by a member of the Holyhead Harpies. So it's not a broomstick…it's a souvenir!"

"A souvenir that nonetheless can fly?" said Snape.

Harry shrugged and smiled. "I guess I won't know until I try, will I Professor?"

Snape sputtered, "You're purposely trying to circumvent the rules!"

"No, I had no idea that that there would be a Nimbus inside that box," Harry retorted.

"Of course not," Ron Weasley muttered. "The Harpies all rode Comets up to the start of this season."

"This has your arrogant father's name written all over it!"

Harry smiled, and quipped. "No, Professor Snape…those appear to be the Harpy's names running down the length of the handle."

"Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked. "Your cheek isn't helping the situation."

"Yes, Ma'am…sorry, Ma'am," he replied. Spotting a note still within the box, he gave it a quick glance. "Here…here's a handwritten note from the Harpy's captain. It says…"

"As if we'd believe what you say it says," Snape snapped, grabbing for the parchment.

Harry snatched the letter back, and handed it to McGonagall.

"Alright, then Sir…perhaps you consider my Head of House to be more worthy of your trust?"

The Potions professor scowled, but did turn towards his colleague. Minerva nodded in recognition, and read the letter out loud.

"_Dear Harry,_

_Congratulations on being sorted into Gryffindor House! I'm sure that your parents are thrilled, and I'll be counting on your scouting reports regarding your team's Chaser line…we hear that they might have what it takes to play for Holyhead some day (and I'm not just talking about bits!)."_

A squeal was heard from halfway down the table, as Angelina and Alicia began to chatter. This only added to the frown growing on their Head of House's face over the letter writer's choice of words. She nonetheless continued.

"_A little birdie has told me that one of your new dorm mates follows Muggle football, and has hung a picture of his favorite team on your dorm room wall. I insist on equal time, and I'm counting on you to convince him that Quidditch is a far more exciting and nobler pursuit. To that end, the girls and I have sent along some wall decorations to use as part of your marketing campaign. _

_Love and kisses (it's all your mum will allow us until you're a bit older),_

_Gwenog Jones"_

The Great Hall erupted with cries of excitement and disbelief over what the Assistant Headmistress had just read. The Gryffindor boys gasped when Harry then opened the tube that Hedwig had brought him and rolled out an autographed team poster of the Harpies…a enlarged magical photograph of the starting team's seven, all sitting on the same broomstick (it was, of course, a very tight squeeze given the broom's standard length).

As for the Head of Slytherin House…his reaction was a tad more violent. The well-dressed wizard reached across the table, grabbed Harry by the robes, and pulled the boy half-way across.

"You're LYING!" Snape bellowed, as he forced direct eye contact onto the first-year wizard.

Harry's reaction was unexpected…he smiled, and unleashed the kind of twinkling in his eyes that would have impressed his Headmaster.

"Go ahead, Professor," the eleven-year old whispered, looking Snape straight in the eyes. "Make my day…it'll make my father's decade."

The Potions master sucked in a deep breath at the whelp's cheek, and wondered whether it'd be more satisfying to forge ahead with a nonverbal mental probe, or give the boy the back of his hand.

He took a third path.

"One-hundred points from Gryffindor," he whispered, quietly enough so only those closest to the two could hear him. "And a month of detentions!"

Harry snorted. "Might I ask why, Professor?"

"For threatening a Professor…or would you rather be expelled?"

The First Year student calmly shook his head. "I have at least a hundred different witnesses who would say otherwise. So why don't I just appeal your disciplinary action, and if it can't be resolved within the Headmaster's office we can have the Board of Governors sort it out?"

"You wouldn't…"

"Might I make a suggestion, Professor?" asked Albus Dumbledore, who had arrived "just in time" to diffuse the situation.

Snape roughly expelled his held breath, and pushed Harry back into his seat.

"Of course, Headmaster."

"I think that the spirit of the rule on First Year brooms focuses more on possession then or how the student acquired the broom, or its intended use."

"But!" Harry began to protest.

Dumbledore held up his hand.

"Hear me out, Mr. Potter," the old wizard insisted. "I am also concerned that such a valuable and unique souvenir would a tempting target, whether it was stored in the shed or hung on your wall. But if this broomstick were kept in the secure hands of say, your Head of House…"

Harry frowned. "And would I have access to this souvenir?" he asked.

The Headmaster smiled. "That would be between your Head of House and yourself, young man. That said…I see no reason why you couldn't take temporary custody of the…souvenir…on an occasional basis."

"Occasional enough to accommodate Oliver Wood's schedule?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore chuckled. "That will depend on your Head of House, Mr. Potter…as well as, one would think, the results of this afternoon's trials?"

A small smile crept onto Harry's face as Snape began to fume again. "Thank you Headmaster…as for the points and month of detentions?"

"Yes, yes," the old man said with a nod. "For a most ingenious and creative solution to a perceived problem, I award Gryffindor ninety points." "

"Ninety?" demanded Harry. "And what of the detentions?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Pardon an old wizard's hearing…the issue is over the assignment of a single detention to be monitored by Professor McGonagall, is it not?"

"A single detention, or single month?" asked Snape.

"I don't think that we need bother the Board of Governors over a single detention and loss of 10 points net, do we?" Dumbledore asked, looking at both the Potions professor and Harry over the top edge of his eyeglasses.

"No, Headmaster," Snape choked out.

Harry smiled. "Fine by me, Sir."

"Good, good…carry on then," the Headmaster insisted, as he nodded to all involved parties and headed back towards the Head Table as if nothing had happened.

Once Snape stormed off towards the dungeons, Harry hazard a glace towards McGonagall and was rewarded with a frown of disapproval.

"Sorry, Professor," he said with a shrug. "I'll do my best to get those points back in class today."

"That's not what I'm concerned about, Mr. Potter," she said. Handing Gwenog Jones' note back to Harry she added, "You'll thank me for not reading the postscript out loud."

The black-haired wizard glanced down at the bottom the letter and sucked in a breath.

"_P.S. Hey boyo, since I'm letting you ride on my broomstick, perhaps you'll react favorably if my niece asks to ride on yours someday?"_

"Plan on discussing Miss Jones's level of…familiarity…during your detention in my office tonight."

"Yes, Professor."

"I'll be back at the end of breakfast to collect your...souvenir, then," she said with a curt smile.

"Thanks, Professor," Harry said with a nod, quickly stuffing the letter into his pocket. He then turned back towards the table and found more than half of his house mates hovering over his gifts from the Harpies.

"You know this is the fastest production stick on the market, right now?" asked an awed Oliver Wood.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Most of the Welsh team rode them this past summer."

"And you know this is the same broom that the witches are sitting on in this picture?" added Fred.

"Really?" Harry asked with a boyish smile.

"Bloody hell he's right," said George, comparing poster to broomstick. "They even signed where they were sitting!"

"I believe you're correct, dear brother," said Fred. "Though it's such a tight fit..hard to tell if they're sitting on wood or lap. I wonder if they were wearing knickers?"

"Fred Weasley, you are incorrigible!" Alicia announced loudly.

"But am I wrong to think it?" he asked, as he pointed towards the pictures.

The grins and giggles coming from the broomstick-riding witches within the magical photograph suggested that he was not.

**oo00OO00oo**

"I am most disappointed in you Severus," Albus Dumbledore said later that afternoon, as the two watched the Gryffindor trials from the Headmaster's office window. "It was, admittedly, a most artfully presented piece of bait, but you still should not have swallowed the hook."

"The boy is even more arrogant than his father…and the impudence! He'll hold the threat of his father's place on the Board over me as long as he's here!"

"Not quite that long," Dumbledore replied. "There are but four years left for your community service?"

Snape spat out the window in the general direction of a Nimbus-riding wizard.

"Four years that will cause treble the pain and suffering that I've experienced over the first eleven…blast James Potter and his suggested alternative sentence!"

"Would you have preferred to have served that time in Azkaban?"

"At least there the die is cast, and all uncertainty removed!" Snape observed. "You can't imagine how hard it is for me to kowtow…to bite my tongue…for fear of giving the Board of Governors cause to sack me and send me into the arms of the Dementors!"

"Alas, but I do," Dumbledore replied. "For I feel myself under that same sentence…were I to give the Board cause to seek my replacement, how much longer would be your tenure at Hogwarts? How much longer your salaried service to Greengrass Enterprises?"

Snape sighed deeply. "So that means we have to allow the boy and his father to walk all over us?"

"Not at all, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "James Potter lacks the votes on the Board to act with impunity…so long as your direct disciplinary actions are relatively even-handed, your job is safe. And if actions are more indirect…."

"That's the best I can hope for until the whelp's O.W.L. year, then," Snape concluded.

"I'm glad you see it that way, my boy," Dumbledore replied, as he tossed a lemon drop into his mouth. "Voldemort is still out there, and we're no closer to identifying the child of prophecy. I need you here, by my side, to ensure that the Dark Lord is vanquished."

Severus rolled his eyes and changed the subject. "I can't believe you allowed the boy that broom…it is unfair to the other houses."

"Why would you worry so?" Albus asked with a twinkle in his eyes. "Harry is but a first year, and even if he makes the team…it takes more than a fast broom to play seeker, especially if you are his size and weight. You need a sharp eye, and experience…the Slytherin Seeker is an upper year, correct?"

Snape nodded.

"So if I give the boy a boon, perhaps…perhaps he can learn to trust me more than his parents do. And he is already showing signs of leadership…were he to bring his friends along with him…"

"You mean his harem?"

"Oh, Severus…they are only First Years, and not all witches."

"He might be a First Year, but some of those witches aren't. Some of the wizards as well…it looked like Wood was going to soil himself with delight this morning."

"Well, it has been a rather long time since another house has won the Quidditch Cup, hasn't it?"

"And that is a problem….how, exactly?"

The Headmaster chuckled. "The Gryffindor-Slytherin match is nearly two months away…surely that's sufficient time to develop a game plan that would effectively counter any advantage in broom speed?"

Snape nodded as his eyes darted back out towards the Quidditch stadium, and he began to wonder how he could best arrange for Harry Potter's maiden match to be his last.


	11. Chapter 11 Closest Friend and Confidant

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**A/N: **There is a "pantsing" in this chapter that many might consider to be a form of sexual assault. I toned it down from what I thought should have happened (given the situation and setting), but it's still hard for me to read without getting angry…even had to write the revenge bit at the end before I could manage to finish off the humiliating part. So, take note, and apologies in advance for the fact that the revenge part isn't in this chapter.

To quote Sirius Black's response to Harry, _"Patience, Young Grasshopper."_

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 11 – Closest Friend and Confidant**

One might think that Harry Potter, the new Gryffindor Seeker, had been preparing for his first Potions Class with Professor Snape for his entire life, but in actuality it had only been slightly more than two years. The young wizard had received both a "Junior Potions Master" kit and a Muggle cookbook on his ninth birthday, and tutelage immediately began under two witches who, while formally trained in other areas, had a real passion for their hobbies.

Lily taught Harry basic brewing techniques within a stone-walled outbuilding on the edge of their homestead in Aberystwyth. The converted tool shed was ideal for this use…it was sturdy, well-ventilated, and distant enough for its muggle-repelling charms not to interfere with the reception of guests in the main house. Cooking classes were provided by Emmy in the well-equipped kitchen of that main house. And while it would have killed a Potions Master to admit it, these lessons really were complementary… by the end of summer hols Harry could wield a sharp knife, control a flame's heat, and follow a recipe well enough to brew a simple pain-relief potion in the morning, then bake a lasagna in the afternoon.

Emmy Vance taught Harry the theoretical side of Potions in the same way that he was introduced to all of the other subjects taught at Hogwarts…through an adapted Muggle television game show. The category _"Potent Potions"_ was a regular category in their home version of "Magical Jeopardy," along with _"Which Witch or Wizard,"_ _"Beasts and Beings,"_ and _"Charming Charms."_ The adults within the Potter household had just as much fun making up new categories and questions as the children had answering them.

Although there was always a temptation to introduce personal bias…

"Let's try _'Greasy-haired Gits'_ for five hundred, Dad."

"And the answer is…."

Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones loved to play "Magical Jeopardy," alongside Harry whenever they visited Tyr-yr-Hydd, so they were almost as prepared as he was for their first lesson with Snape (which took place two days before the first joint Gryffindor-Slytherin class). Their post-class debriefing recounted a pompous bit of puffery about Potions being the greatest of Magical Arts, but there was no attempt to trip up anyone within the class with trivia.

Then again, none in that First Year class had followed in their father's footsteps and already gotten the better of Snape, so that really didn't mean much.

Older Gryffindor students were all too willing to scare their Ickle Firsties with stories about Snape, and warn them of the petty favoritism he showed his Snakes. Hermione and Dean Thomas, the only muggleborns within this small group, couldn't believe that their Potions instructor could be that bad…they stated that any teacher that bullied students or blatantly played favorites within a Muggle school would raise the ire of parents and get him or her sacked.

Harry used a history lesson provided by his mum to put Snape's teaching in perspective for his class mates. While what Dean and Hermione stated might be true for the Muggle Primary schools that they attended, or government-funded Secondary schools, it was less so for the Muggle boarding schools that were the equivalent of Hogwarts. And it was certainly not the case in any Muggle school before the 1960's, when the cane and corporal punishment were considered essential components of the curriculum. Hermione then asked why abandoned forms of Muggle school discipline were relevant, which led Harry into a side lecture about the life spans of witches and wizards, and how they kept much of the Wizarding World within the Victorian age.

The kids from magical families thought that losing points or scrubbing cauldrons in detention was far less barbaric (and far less punishment) then getting beaten by a Muggle teacher…despite Filch's mutterings, nobody had ever heard of a sibling or parent getting caned at Hogwarts (none of them considered the possibility of post-punishment memory modification, so the point held).

It was this sort of balanced "it could be worse" perspective that was carried by the First Year Gryffindors into their first Potions lesson. Once Snape began to speak, they decided that it could have been far, far worse, for the Professor wasn't very adversarial at all. There were a few snide comments made when roll was taken, and he tried to take a run at "Hogwarts' Newest Celebrity Seeker," with some trivia, but didn't push once Harry correctly and calmly answered his questions.

Oh, sure, points were lost for "cheekiness" when the young wizard stated that he had never personally gutted a goat, so the most likely place that _he_ would find a bezoar was in the emergency first aid kit that he "hoped was on hand for these Potions lessons", but that was almost understandable. Generally speaking, both student and instructor sparred lightly, and followed the pre-match instructions provided by their respective corners…

"Keep your hands up, don't throw the first punch, and remember that this is the first round of a very long fight."

And thus the "first round" of Potions and the first week of instruction ended with no knockdowns.

If only second week of classes had gone as smoothly.

**oo00OO00oo**

Madame Hooch thought it rather pointless for the new Gryffindor Seeker to run through his first Flying Class as if he didn't know the first thing about brooms. So when the time came for the youngest Lions and Snakes to join her on the pitch, she asked Harry Potter to be her assistant for the day. The green-eyed wizard shrugged his shoulders and agreed...it wouldn't be the first time that an instructor asked for his help tutoring classmates.

Harry ignored the quietly-voiced comments coming from some of the Slytherins about being an apple polisher. Theodore Nott (who had quickly taken up the role of chief ponce that most assumed Draco Malfoy would step into) was particularly scathing. The object of these comments paid no mind…not only were they petty, they were poorly-hidden attempts to goad him into trouble. And while Harry was only half-joking about his desire to break his Dad's detention record, he wanted to do that on his terms, not anyone else's.

The Gryffindor students were far more polite and encouraging…especially Lavender, once she spied Harry's teaching methods.

"Oh, Professor Potter, could you help me, please?" she asked sweetly.

Harry nodded, and said he'd be there momentarily, as he helped Hermione balance with an arm wrapped around her waist.

"Right, you're doing great," he told the bushy-haired witch with a smile. "I'm going to let go, now, and I just want you to try and hover…work on that balance. Once I get Lavender off the ground I'll be back, okay?"

Hermione gave a nervous nod as her eyes bore down on her white-knuckled grip.

"There you go…you got it!," Harry said reassuringly, as he took a step back. "Just relax, and remember that you're in command of your mag…."

"Oh, Harry, don't….!" the bushy-haired witch screeched, as she closed her eyes and lost her balance.

Hermione's ankles reflexively locked together even as she maintained the deathgrip on the front of her handle. With the broom still hovering three feet off the pitch, the result was an unintentional, yet perfectly executed, sloth grip roll.

Harry dived towards the Muggleborn witch and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I've got you, Hermione," he said. "Let your legs drop to the ground."

"But I don't want anyone to see me fall!" she protested weakly.

"You also don't want the boys to see any more of your shorts, do you?"

Hermione's eyes opened wide. The Hogwarts school uniform didn't allow for witches to wear trousers in class, even during flying lessons (it was "unbecoming" according to Victorian attitudes). Fearful of boys getting upskirt views whilst airborne, Hermione had therefore layered a pair of black Muggle athletic shorts underneath her skirt and robes, and these shorts (and her bare legs) were now in full view of the class.

The amount of displayed leg, while modest by Muggle standards, drew some lewd comments from the Slytherin wizards, who took advantage of the fact that Madame Hooch was busy trying to keep Tracy Davis from flying into the empty Ravenclaw stands. Hermione quickly reached for her hemlines and unlocked her ankles. But Harry wasn't prepared for this reaction, so he lost his balance and ended up pulling his friend down on top of him…with her robes still hiked up above her waist and her thighs straddling his.

One of the pureblood Slytherins, not content to mock and ridicule based on the presented situation, quietly cast an "_Accio_" charm that yanked Hermione's shorts off of her legs and sent them flying towards the spell caster. The clever wizard then ducked behind Dean Thomas, so that his face intercepted the garment's flight path.

While some classmates tracked the flying shorts, most focused on what had been left behind…Hermione's pink bikini-string knickers, which had ridden up high in the back, and left most of her bum exposed.

The class then descended into chaos, with lots of pushing and shoving by those hoping for a view of Hermione's bits (sad to say, those jostling for position included the other Gryffindor males). Another Slytherin added to Hermione's embarrassment by casting a sticking charm onto the hem of her robes, which kept her from covering herself. When Harry realized what had happened he rolled over on top of Hermione. While this move concealed her bum, it also placed the two in an even more suggestive missionary position, with his clothed body coming to rest in between her bared and spread legs.

It took a few seconds for Parvati Patil to realize what was happening, and to land her broom and throw her school robes over Harry and Hermione. A few seconds more were needed for Harry to carefully wiggle off of Hermione without revealing any more skin than she'd already shown. And more than a few seconds were required for Madame Hooch to restore order. During all of these seconds, every Slytherin moved about the pitch and either cast _Accio_ spells on random objects with their wands, or had one of their House mates do the casting for them.

The actions taken by these students made it impossible to sort out (with the level of certainty demanded by Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore) who had been positioned behind Dean Thomas, and who might have cast the spell…when _Prior Incantato_ revealed the _Accio _spell on every Slytherin's wand (even Tracy Davis, who'd been far away from the point of attack), they simply claimed that they had been practicing summoning charms in their Common Room prior to class.

One of the Seventh-Year Slytherin Prefects was all too happy to corroborate that fanciful alibi.

Hermione was devastated and felt completely humiliated by the cruel act. Harry was furious…especially when the Slytherins got away with it. He demanded that pensieve memories be collected by the Headmaster to identify the culprits, only to be rebuffed…first by "boys will be boys," and then (when he pushed) with the legal observation that he had no standing to make that request. And as the shorts had ended up on a Muggleborn boy's face, and as there were several purebloods "witnesses" that claimed that it had been Hermione herself who had pulled down her pants…under Ministry rules she couldn't even challenge those claims and request that pensieve memories be reviewed (not that she was at all anxious for anyone to watch the incident over and over again).

The entire Castle knew what had happened by dinnertime, and been told a whole range of stories (in varying degrees of explicitness) about Harry and Hermione "shagging" on the Quidditch pitch. The jeers and catcalls followed Hermione relentlessly...a Slytherin witch, for example, asked if her knickers really were the same shade of pink as her bits (despite the fact that she'd only had parts of her bum exposed).

It soon got to the point where the other First Year Gryffindor girls began to protectively surround her, rather the Girl-Who-Lived, and by the end of the week Hermione had stopped venturing out of her room altogether other than for classes (her dorm mates brought plates of food from the Great Hall).

Harry's Welsh connection within Slytherin Housde knew that he wanted names, but also knew that Snape was ready to pounce on the young Gryffindor at the slightest hint of revenge. This made the black-haired wizard's sense of failure all the greater…he had taken Hermione under his wing, but hadn't been able to save her from undeserved humiliation. His parents were just as upset when he wrote home about the incident (although Lily was quick to point out to James that he had done something similar to Snape back in the day), but the Slytherin students and their Head of House had pulled together well enough to keep the Board from questioning Dumbledore's actions (or lack of action). Harry had also written to Sirius, asking for help, but had only gotten two cryptic replies back.

One said, _"Patience, Young Grasshopper."_

The second read, _"Allow the Dog His Day."_

A few days after Flying Class, the First-Year Gryffindor girls found out about Hermione's birthday, and told Harry. He decided that he had to do something to raise her spirits, and wrote home asking for advice. Based on a very helpful suggestions, Harry steered Hermione and her dorm mates down into the dungeons after classes ended on her birthday, and ticked a pear.

The girls laughed nervously when Lavender offered to let Harry squeeze some melons instead (made only half in jest). The laughter faded once the portrait swung open and they were provided their first view of the Hogwarts Kitchens. And of the Hogwarts House-Elves, who had prepared a small birthday feast and baked Hermione a cake.

The Muggleborn witch smiled for the first time in a week in response to Harry's thoughtful gesture. As she sat down at the provided table and thanked the cooks, then started in on a celebratory meal. That smile immediately disappeared, however, once she learned about House-Elf slavery...she got so riled up that she forgot the cake and began to pace about the kitchen ranting about wizarding world injustices.

Fortunately, another Muggleborn witch who had been the smartest of _her_ generation had anticipated this response, and sent her son a letter to give to the birthday girl (along with a small gift, in case he hadn't already gotten one).

This wasn't the first correspondence between Lily and Hermione…the two had exchanged two sets of letters over the previous week in which the older witch expressed her sympathies, even as she confirmed certain truths about the unfair treatment of Muggleborns within the wizarding world. And it was fortunate that these letters had engendered a level of trust within the younger witch…or else she would have never believed what Lily had written…that House-Elves needed to be bound, either to a family or to Hogwarts, or else they would eventually lose their magic and die.

Lily's letter calmed Hermione just enough to allow her to sit down and interview the kitchen staff about their bound magic, and their living and working conditions. They all confirmed the necessity of the binding, but admitted that Hogwarts House-Elves were generally treated much better than those bound to certain pureblooded families. This focused Hermione's sense of outrage…away from notions of freedom from slavery, and towards efforts to better the lives and working conditions of every House-Elf.

And in this manner, Hermione's birthday party did more to break her out of her funk than Harry or any of her dorm mates could have reasonably expected. Sure, she'd been horribly embarrassed, but what was that when compared to the plight of maltreated House-Elves? She therefore braved the taunts and catcalls and spent her free time in the Library (where she did research) and in the Great Hall (where she quietly began to proselytize). The purebloods who heard of her efforts thought them ridiculously stupid, and began to mock her for her ideas, rather than her knickers. But that was the kind of mockery that Hermione could easily weather and ignore, as it was for a good cause.

**oo00OO00oo**

As September flowed into October, and the days became shorter and crisper, the Flying Class was thought of less and less, and the Quidditch team practiced more and more. Oliver really fancied the notion that his team had a shot of winning the Cup, but the first match against Slytherin would decide it all. He therefore worked Harry and his teammates through relentless practice sessions, no matter the weather.

Wood's team expected this type of regimen…but what it didn't expect was the announcement made four weeks into training that he was adding The-Girl-Who-Lived to the roster as a reserve. The surprise came not because she wasn't a decent flyer (which was obvious soon enough), but because she hadn't originally tried out for the team.

The Gryffindor captain explained that he thought no one who had attended the trials was worthy of training time (save for Harry, of course). But he still thought it important to have a backup in case of game-day injuries, or pre-game preemptory detentions, and said that he understood Daphne's initial reluctance as an effort to avoid even more notoriety than she already "enjoyed."

(What Wood didn't explain was that the suggestion had come directly from the Hogwarts Headmaster, for reasons that Ollie didn't know and Dumbledore didn't provide.)

Daphne Greengrass was taller than the average First-Year witch, but shorter and lighter than anyone else on the team. She also had yet to develop, so her chest matched Wood's ideal of what a Seeker's profile should look like. This meant that The-Girl-Who-Lived spent most of their training time with Harry…Ollie's "secret plan" was to have Daphne play Seeker in case a reserve was needed. If she were to replace Harry, then nothing else would change. If one of the witches was injured, Harry would shift to the Chaser line, and if they needed a Beater, then Angelina would pick up a bat and Harry would take her place.

Oliver Wood couldn't imagine a scenario in which he'd need to be replaced, so there was no contingency for a reserve Keeper.

Harry wasn't terribly upset with these roster moves, even though it meant that he'd be the one most likely benched if he performed poorly during their first match. He knew how to play Chaser…his father had played that position on his house team, and tossed Quaffles with him for years. Timing and formation signals needed to be worked on, but Harry was a quick learner, and Katie, Alicia and Angelina were very, very helpful instructors.

Training for Seeker with Daphne also gave him an opportunity to get to know the witch better than he already did. She was still incredibly shy, but there was intensity and focus revealed whenever she mounted up and began looking for the Snitch. Daphne also knew the position…she was the one, for example, that gave Harry tips on how to pull off a successful Wronski Feint. The-Girl-Who-Lived explained by noting that she'd spent a lot of time in the air with Cedric Diggory, who played Seeker for Hufflepuff. This seemed like a reasonable explanation, as she'd been very friendly with the Fourth Year whenever they met in the hallways, or library, or Great Hall. It would have made even more sense had Harry and his teammates been allowed to put two and two together and figure out that Cedric was Daphne's adopted brother, but such was the power behind the _Fidelius _Charm that protected that secret.

**oo00OO00oo**

Harry and Hermione were holed up in the back of the library on the afternoon of Halloween, bandying acronyms back and forth that didn't make one think of vomit, when Madame Pince swung by and asked why they weren't already at the Halloween Feast. The bushy-haired witch bit her lip and offered a feeble excuse that the librarian didn't accept. Madame Pince had quickly grown to like the First Year Muggleborn, and stated that there would be plenty of time within the month of November to advocate for House-Elf rights. She then gave Harry a wink, assumed that he was only there because he fancied Hermione, and made a teasing quip about the Feast being a wonderful setting for a first date. This got both students blushing, and eager to leave the library (which was the librarian's goal all along).

Questions of dating aside, Harry tried to convince Hermione along the way to the Feast that she did deserve to have some fun. And if he couldn't convince her on that point, then she should consider it an educational field trip…an opportunity to observe firsthand just how differently All Hollow's Eve was celebrated within the Wizarding World.

When Hermione entered the gaily decorated Great Hall, she was taken in by the decorations and festive spirit. Hagrid's pumpkins were huge, and everyone within the crowded hall seemed to be enjoying themselves. Unfortunately, there were a few who had been waiting for Harry and Hermione…a few who were looking for a laugh that was far more shadenfreude that celebratory. So just as the two were about to join their housemates at the Gryffindor table, a spell was cast, and a complex prank revealed.

Somebody had either had a magical camera with them during the infamous Flying Class, or taken pictures within a pensieved memory of the event. And that same person (or an accomplice) had managed to project this magical photograph onto the surface of every one of the pumpkin decorations. It was essentially a looped seven-second long video clip, played over and over.

…_Hermione loses her shorts, and reveals pink Muggle-style knickers that have ridden high and gathered as if she was wearing a thong. Hermione throws her hands back to cover her bum. Loses her balance and falls down onto Harry so that they're almost nose-to-nose. Harry tries to help by rolling over on top of her, and lands in a missionary position with his crotch pressed against the front of her knickers, and her bare legs spread wide and in the air. Hermione loses her shorts, and reveals pink Muggle-style knickers that have ridden high…_

The two late arrivals to the party watched themselves "on screen" with a state of shock that was shattered by the derisive laughter and cat calls from the Slytherin table. Hermione burst into tears and rushed out of the Hall. Harry, thinking he'd be able to find her easy enough, stayed in the hope of ferreting out who was laughing loudest, or whether there was help from the Head Table (recognizing the "prank" as some very advanced magic).

It was at this point in time that Professor Quirrel decided to join the party. He entered the Hall, calmly announced that there was a Troll in the Castle, and fell to the ground in a mock feint. Unfortunately, there was far too much noise and far too much focus on the looping video for anyone to notice him. After impatiently waiting for a response, the DADA instructor opened his eyes, looked around, and suddenly "got better." He then stood up and cast a _Sonorous_ charm that ensured that his repeat performance would be noticed.

Harry Potter bolted past Quirrel and was out the door before the possessed wizard hit the floor a second time…the last thing he wanted was Hermione to come face-to-face with that kind of danger alone. He immediately headed for the Tower, then stopped and cast a _"Point me Hermione"_ charm. Sure enough, his wand was pointing in a different direction.

Two more "Point-me's" were used to get him to a point where that spell was (unfortunately) no longer needed. Harry could now hear the screams and shouts of a very frightened girl. He ran as fast as he could towards those screams…and even faster when his nose caught a coincidental whiff of "fresh" Troll. He didn't notice the tightness in his scalp and lower back as adrenaline surged through his veins, and wouldn't have cared if he had. Hermione was in grave danger, and sod the secrets.

The trail of screams and foul smells led him to the door of a girl's lavatory, and he burst inside without regard to risk or propriety.

"HARRY! HELP!" cried a very frightened First Year.

The young wizard immediately spied his friend hiding under the last of a row of wash basins…a row that was being methodically destroyed by the wooden club of an twelve-foot tall Mountain Troll. His demon side leapt into control, and horns burst up through his hair while four thick tentacles blasted out from his lower back. The new limbs shred his robes and underclothing along the way.

The eleven-year old demi-demon, now naked save for his boots, roared and shot his rapidly growing limbs out towards the noisome beast. The first two tentacles flew towards the Troll's wrists, and pinned them back against the lavatory wall. A third tentacle wrapped itself around the fat end of the club and tried to rip if free of the attacker's grip, and the fourth made for the Troll's neck and coiled.

Pressure from the coiled tentacle cut off the Troll's air supply. It tried to ease this choke-hold by letting go of the club and reaching for its neck. Demon-Harry then let go of the Troll's wrists and pulled back his new limbs to provide clearance for the tentacle that now freely held a six-foot long club.

The first swing was up in between the Mountain Troll's legs, ensuring that there wouldn't be any baby Troll nappies in the beast's future. The monster howled, and doubled over in pain. This provided a clear shot for the second swing, which came crashing down upon the back of the monster's head. The Troll fell to the floor unconscious.

Demon-Harry silently held the club over the prone form for a few seconds, ready to beat it down if its head popped up. This vigil was interrupted by a very small voice.

"Harry?"

The young demi-demon whirled around, ready to defend his friend against another attack. But there was just his friend…a friend who was staring right back at him.

Staring at his two horns, and four tentacles, and six-pack abs…

Staring at his hairless prepubescent bits.

Hermione's mind crashed, and she fainted onto the tiled floor.

Harry looked down towards where his friend had last gazed, swore loudly, and blushed in embarrassment (as much as a blue-tinged demi-demon could blush). This mood-killer also caused his wits to return to him, and he immediately realized his situation.

Shoving his embarrassment to the side, Harry used a human hand to cast a repair charm on his tattered robes, and a tentacle to reach for the emergency inhaler that was still housed within a bit of pocket. Two other tentacles shot out towards the robes and held them over the naked boy's head, while the fourth gathered up the other bits of tattered clothing and flushed them down a loo. Meanwhile, Harry shoved the retrieved inhaler into his mouth and released all three "meals" at once. He then let the robes fall down onto his head, and snaked his two human arms through the sleeves.

Cries coming down the hallway and through the opened door warned Harry that he'd soon have company. He retracted the still visible tentacles as best he could underneath his repaired robes, and mussed up his hair to cover the nubs of horn on his brow. That left only a few seconds for the demi-demon to come up with a barely plausible explanation, and to cast a levitation charm on one of the broken basins.

The horns and limbs disappeared just as Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall arrived on the scene and demanded an explanation.

Harry said that he was worried about Hermione's safety when the troll's presence was announced, and tracked her there following "Point-me" spells and the sounds of her screams. There wasn't time to find a Professor to provide assistance, so he tried to get the Troll's attention away from Hermione. When the Troll came towards him, his only thought was to use the _"Wingardium Leviosa"_ spell that they'd recently been taught in charms class. But then he lost focus and the spell failed. Luckily, the club was directly over the Troll's head, so when the spell failed the beast was knocked unconscious.

Snape was immediately suspicious of the explanation, but a check of Harry's wand was consistent with his story. McGonagall was at Hermione's side, and was about to revive her when Harry called out for her to wait. He explained that she was already unconscious when he arrived at the scene, and that she wouldn't know how the Mountain Troll was defeated. Harry then humbly stated that he really didn't want any credit, or points awarded for what he did, and preferred that Hermione think that it was Hogwarts staff that had rescued her.

When his Head of House asked why he thought this important, Harry explained that Hermione's trust in the ability of the Hogwarts staff to keep her safe and secure had been shaken by the Flying Class incident. Laying it on thick, he then expressed fears that his friend might feel completely unsafe if she knew not only that a Troll had gotten inside the castle, but that she had been saved from certain death by a classmate, rather than her Headmaster, or Head of House. He then slyly added his fears that other students _and their parents_ might think similarly if word got out.

The response to this explanation was mixed. McGonagall believed Harry (for the most part) and focused on Harry's concern for Hermione's well being…she'd never admit it, but as his story unfolded she was hearing "The Wedding March" in the back of her mind, and comparing Hermione favorably against Lily.

Snape couldn't believe that Harry was actually trying to steer clear of fame, or at least House points. He expressed that disbelief, and openly declared Harry a liar.

This left it to Dumbledore to break the tie. He viewed Harry more as a cagey teen-aged Slytherin than a First Year Lion, and shared Snape's suspicions that there was more to the story than the boy was sharing. He also wondered why Harry was gift-wrapping a cover story…the young wizard must have known how poorly this incident could play out not only in the press, but before his father and the other Board of Governors. So why was the boy not seeking to press this advantage, or requesting an obvious boon?

The son of James and Lily had quickly become a puzzle, wrapped inside of an enigma…but there wasn't sufficient time to solve that problem with a castle full of upset students and an unconscious troll at their feet. But there was still time to do a bit of maneuvering….

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as he thanked Harry for his quick thinking and humble attitude, and accepted the young wizard's offered version of events. The Headmaster then suggested that it was Professor Snape who had gotten to the scene first and saved the Muggleborn witch (he was, after all, more fleet of foot then either the Headmaster or his Assistant).

Harry's eyes narrowed in response to the parry. He worried his lip with his teeth, then let out a breath and nodded. He then volunteered to be the one to carry Hermione to the Infirmary, where Madame Pomfrey would be best able to revive her, and attend to her medical needs. This, the green-eyed wizard noted, would allow those far more capable than he to provide their undivided attention towards removing the Mountain Troll from the Castle. It also would provide opportunity for any students that happen along to see the Hogwarts Staff in firm control of the situation.

Snape immediately protested, and argued that he wanted to hear, "the Mud….erm, Muggleborn's side of the story" for himself. But Dumbledore stayed Snape's vitriol with a curt shake of his head. The Headmaster then nodded at Harry, thanked the young wizard for his quick thinking and fine ideas, and asked if he would require any assistance transporting Hermione to the Infirmary.

Harry shook his head, and said that he'd be fine on his own. He then walked over to his friend's position, picked her up as if she weighed no more than a bag of crisps, and carried her away from the scene.

Once the First Year rounded the hallway corner, he let out a deep sigh of relief. This brought Hermione a bit closer to consciousness…enough to give her control of arms that reached up to Harry's neck and pulled him close.

"Harry?" she asked groggily, her face buried into his chest.

"Ssshhh," he whispered. "Let's get you to Poppy, and then we can talk, okay?"

Harry didn't see Hermione's eyes dart open, but he could feel her immediately tense up. As he kept walking Hermione soon relaxed, as if her brain wasn't traveling a million miles a minute with questions. That relaxed state soon grew more genuine, when all of those thoughts and questions were pressed down by the incredible sense of safety that the young witch felt within Harry's arms. She snuggled closer, and wondered if it would feel any different if her Champion had been carrying her in his tentacles. Harry replied with his own unwitnessed smile, and held Hermione tight in his (human) arms.

And from that moment forward, Hermione Granger became Harry Potter's closest friend and confidant. There are some things you can't share without ending up trusting each other, and holding your tongue after someone saves your life by changing into demonic form and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.


	12. Chapter 12 Postgame Interviews

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**A/N: **I've been bad about not mentioning it before, but my thanks need to go out to the small, but devoted group of readers who have been more than willing to bounce story ideas and plot points back and forth in the 3_or_4_Part_Harmony and Seel'vor Yahoo! Groups.

No revenge here, but plotting o' plenty.

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 12 –Post-game Interviews **

It only took the code phrase "octo-incident" for Poppy Pomfrey to forget what Harry Potter had said when he entered the Hogwarts Infirmary with Hermione Granger in his arms. She blanched, hurried her young charge towards a bed, and cast the strongest silencing charms that she knew upon drawn curtains.

"Oh, Harry," the Matron finally said, as he placed his friend onto the bed. "I had hoped that you'd at least make it to your fourth or fifth year…and she's so young! Weren't there any older girls that caught your eye?"

"What? You think that I….Oh, Merlin," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't transform to _do_ her…I transformed to _save _her. There was a twelve-foot tall Mountain Troll…remember?"

"Well, erm…right, my mistake," Poppy said. "I'm sorry dear, it's just that…when you said…and this girl was in your arms…."

"My name is Hermione Granger," the Muggleborn informed the Matron from the bed. "Things are kind of…fuzzy…but I can hear both of you."

"Erm…excellent," the Matron replied. "So can you tell me what happened, dear?"

"Well, Harry ripped off his robes…and grew these tentacles…and he wasn't wearing anything underneath, and…he whacked this Troll with a club…and he was naked, and…"

"Yes, we've established that, dear," Poppy said with a smile.

"I don't think she was injured by the Mountain Troll," Harry offered. "But she fainted after she saw me…_go octo_…might have hit her head…"

"I'm okay," Hermione weakly protested.

"Let me be the judge of that, Miss Granger," replied Poppy. She then turned to Harry and asked, "What in Merlin's name was a Mountain Troll doing in the castle?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno…Professor Quirrell entered the Great Hall during the Feast and just announced that one was in the dungeons."

Poppy frowned. "Mountain Trolls running rampant in a school full of children?…It's outrageous…sort of thing that the MLE should be made aware of, don't you think?"

"Erm…yes, Ma'am?"

The Matron sighed, and once again reminded herself that Harry was still an eleven-year old boy.

"Is the Troll still at large?"

"No, Ma'am…at least it shouldn't be…I left it unconscious in the lavatory with the Headmaster, Snape and Auntie Minerva."

"I see…so they are very busy at the moment…perhaps too busy to notify the proper authorities?"

"Too busy or too unwilling?" Harry snarked.

"Now, let us assume the former, young man," Poppy said with a smile. "So why don't you go help the Headmaster with that notification before it slips his mind?"

Harry worried his lower lip with his teeth. "But…that was only for emergencies…"

Poppy arched an eyebrow, glanced towards Hermione and asked, "And this doesn't qualify?"

The black-haired wizard snorted. "Yeah, when you look at it that way…"

"Does he have to leave?" Hermione asked, in a very small and very nervous voice.

The Matron patted her patient's leg. "Well, dear…I'll need to remove your robes to check for bruising, and…"

"S'okay," the young witch said a snort. "Not like I didn't see _'The Full Harry' _a little while ago…"

"No, that's okay, Hermione, " Harry quickly replied, blushing bright red. "It'll only take me a few minutes, then I'll be right back…and we can talk about….you know…"

"Yes, that's best," said the Matron. "Do you have charges left on your inhaler, Harry?"

"Erm…well, not with me…used all three at once to get things back under control…got some back in the dorms, though."

"Well, can't have you walking between here and there without a back-up in hand, can we?" Poppy asked with a smile. "If you go into my office, I've got a charged cartridge in the lower right-hand drawer."

This comment allowed Harry to forget the situation for a moment, and to smile.

"In your office, Poppy?" he teased. "Is that where you…."

"Never you mind, young man," Poppy chided.

"Will I have to pop it out of the collector?" Harry asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Oh, why must you be such a lad!" Poppy asked with a huff.

"Because embarrassment loves company?" Harry asked.

"Leave!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed, with a firmly set finger point.

Harry snorted, and turned towards Hermione as he lightly grasped her knee.

"No worries," he said with a grin. "She's really well-qualified. I'm the only one she treats with this kind of bedside manner."

Harry ducked Poppy's attempt to cuff him on the ear, then squeezed his friend's leg again, and got serious.

"Hermione, in case the Headmaster or Auntie Minnie, or Snape arrives…I told them that you fainted before I arrived, not during…so…I know we need to talk, but…you didn't see how I fought the Troll, or how I changed…or what I looked like…please? At least for now, Hermione?"

The bushy-haired witch gasped at the sudden change in Harry's demeanor…from cheekiness to real fear, and…vulnerability. She reached out and covered his hand with her own, and gave her best friend a reassuring smile.

"You can count on me, Harry."

The green-eyed wizard probed his best friend's brown eyes for a few moments, looking for…something. He found it, smiled, and…shocked the twelve-year old witch by leaning down and pulling her into a tight embrace. After holding that hug for a few moments, he turned his face towards her and lightly kissed her cheek.

"Thanks, Hermione," he whispered. "You're a life saver."

The bushy-haired witch shook her head as she wrapped her own arms around her Champion.

"No Harry…you're the one that saved my life."

Harry smiled, and leaned back so that he could hold Hermione's gaze once more.

"Then we're even," he replied brightly, before slipping out underneath the curtain.

**oo00OO00oo**

While Harry rushed to Gryffindor Tower to dig a two-way mirror out of his trunk, his "Auntie Poppy" had a heart-to-heart talk with the latest to learn his secret.

"Are you certain that you weren't injured during the attack, Dear?" she asked, as she waved a wand over Hermione's body.

"Yes, Ma'am," Hermione replied. "Harry arrived and…transformed…just in time."

"You were very lucky, then."

Her patient nodded. "He saved my life…I'd have been killed if he hadn't been there to rescue me."

Poppy nodded slightly, and added "called-in life debt" to the list of options that was forming in the back of her head.

"Harry is a very special young man," she stated. "A special young man with special gifts…gifts that I and a handful of others have helped him keep secret for all of his young life."

Hermione mulled over the Matron's comment with incipient wariness. "So…are there many witches or wizards that have these kinds of secret superpowers?"

"Superpowers?"

"Erm…the tentacles…that's what you meant by his _special gifts_, right?" When Poppy nodded, Hermione added, "Guess the easiest way for me to think of it is in terms of comic book heroes."

"Ah, yes, I see…Muggleborn?" the Matron asked. When Hermione nodded, she added, "That's an excellent analogy, and the answer is no…there is only one other British wizard that I'm aware of that shares these gifts."

"Why must they be kept secret, though?" Hermione asked. "Was some dark ritual needed to gain them, or…."

"No, no…not at all," Poppy replied. "I can assure you that Harry was born with these gifts."

Hermione thought about this for a moment, then reflexively crossed her legs. "He came down the chute that way?"

Poppy snorted. "My you are a perceptive young girl, aren't you? This is really his story to tell, and his Mum's…I'll just say that his Mum is still alive, and Harry has younger sisters, and leave it at that."

The bushy-haired witch nodded. "Yes, I've corresponded with Mrs. Potter. She's been very kind to me."

Poppy nodded. "And now you have the opportunity to repay that kindness."

Hermione worried her lower lip. "By keeping her son's…gifts…a secret?"

The Hogwarts Matron smiled. "Exactly."

"But why, if he was born this way, need it be kept a secret?"

A sad look crossed Poppy's face. "You are a First Year Muggleborn, Miss Granger…perhaps you aren't yet aware of the prejudices that exist within the Wizarding World?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, Ma'am, I've already had personal experience with bigoted Pureblood witches and wizards."

"Ah, yes, well…the amount of prejudice and discrimination is far, far greater for those whose blood lines are not fully…human."

There was a moment of silence, while Hermione processed that carefully phrased statement. She then turned deathly white and asked, "So Harry is…part-squid?"

Poppy stared down at her patient for a moment with a look of disbelief in her eyes…then burst out laughing.

"No, no…no squid or octopus ancestry within the House of Potter," she replied after a hearty chuckle. "But we really are getting ahead of ourselves…we need to discuss our options here."

"What options?"

Poppy turned serious and stated, "I don't think that I'm far off the mark when I say that you now hold your friend's life in his hand in much the same way that he held yours…if the Headmaster were to learn of Harry's condition…he would have to register as a 'dark creature' at the Ministry, and most likely expelled from Hogwarts. His family would be shunned…his parents would lose their jobs in the Ministry…his sisters might even face forced sterilization."

"That's…that's horrible!" Hermione exclaimed. "His sisters…does that mean it's inherited, and that his father…."

"First things first, Miss Granger," Poppy stated. "Those of us who already know Harry's secrets have taken steps to protect our minds, so that those secrets are shielded from mental attack."

Hermione's eyes lit in recognition. "You mean Occlumency? Harry told us about that weeks ago, when he warned us off of direct eye contact with the Headmaster and Professor Snape. He's even started my dorm mates and me on some simple meditation exercises."

"He has, has he?" Poppy asked (wondering if Harry had already chosen his harem and had begun to train it). "And how good are your Occlumency shields?"

"Not very good, I'm afraid," Hermione admitted. "Harry refuses to use mind probes on us to test them, but I'm still certain that they wouldn't hold up to an attack."

"And there's the problem," Poppy replied. "It is not normal for a First Year wizard to defeat a twelve-foot tall Mountain Troll, so the Headmaster will be looking for explanations beyond whatever story Harry might have concocted."

"So they'll try to invade my mind and see what I might have seen?"

"We can't discount the possibility."

"That's really horrible!" Hermione exclaimed. "I thought that Harry might be a touch paranoid when he warned us off, but…"

"He has very legitimate concerns," Poppy stated.

"So what can I do to keep them out of my mind?"

The Hogwarts Matron desperately tried to think of a viable solution that didn't involve memory charms, cashed-in life debts, or Unbreakable Vows.

"If only there were a way to get you out from under the Headmaster's nose, and get you some expert training on Occlumency….and to inform your parents…and give you a chance to discuss this with them…perhaps…"

Poppy looked down at Hermione and asked, "How well are you doing in your classes, Miss Granger?"

The young witch furrowed her eyebrows. "Well enough, I guess…"

"Well enough to survive a one- or two-week leave of absence?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Well, I'm caught up at present, but I'm not certain what assignments would be made in the near term, and I'm only a month or two ahead in the readings…"

"That does seem more than adequate, Miss Granger. So if we were to…"

Poppy swore under her breath, and touched a button that was vibrating on her Healer robes.

"That's a perimeter ward, informing me that more than one person is just down the hall, and heading our way," she whispered, as she canceled the silencing charms. "Start screaming for me, Hermione…scream as if another Troll was about to enter the Infirmary."

"What?"

"Scream!" Poppy hissed.

Hermione nodded, and began a full-voiced reenactment of her response to the Troll's visit to the lavatory.

"_Help! Oh, help! Somebody…there's a monster….Yeeeeaaaah!"_

Poppy nodded in encouragement, and waved her hand in a circle, goading the young witch to continue.

"Miss Granger!" she then shouted. "You must stop! There's no Troll here in the Infirmary! You are safe…."

"_Yeeeahhh! Troll! Yeaaaaaaaaaah!"_

The Hogwarts Matron gave Hermione a "thumbs-up", and pulled a small potions vial from a pocket.

"Miss Granger! You must calm yourself! There is no….here, drink this, then!"

Hermione nodded in response to the instructions, yelled one final time, then swallowed from the vial held to her lips. Poppy kept one hand on the back of the young witch's head, so that when the Dreamless Sleep potion took hold, she could ease the unconscious witch back onto the pillow.

The Matron then stood back upright, took a few deep breaths, and prepared her "game face" for those who were waiting just outside the curtain.

**oo00OO00oo**

If looks could kill, Percy Weasley would have been dodging Unforgivables. The Fifth Year Prefect had yelled at Harry Potter for not arriving at the Tower sooner, and for shorting the head count. The green-eyed wizard brushed-off the git's whinging as he bounded up the stairs to make a mirror call to his dad from behind silenced bed curtains. But once the call was completed, and Harry ran back down the stairs, there was no ignoring the pompous Prefect who blocked his return to the Infirmary with a sneer on his face and a wand in his hand.

Harry's insistence that the danger had passed fell on deaf ears…the Prefects had been ordered to keep all students in their dormitories until they were released by their Head of House, and Professor McGonagall had not yet done so. And any thoughts of just stunning Percy and blowing past were thwarted by the other three prefects who blocked the portal, and by threats of detentions during the first Quidditch match of the season (which Harry thought Percy was just petty enough to attempt to enforce).

The standoff lasted just over two hour's time, ending only after someone other than their Head of House came past the Fat Lady.

"I need to speak with Harry Potter," the visitor loudly announced.

The First Year in question popped his head up from a hearth-facing sofa and cracked a smile.

"Auntie Alice?"

"That's Auror Lieutenant Longbottom to you, Mr. Potter," the uniformed witch said sternly.

Harry caught the sparkle in his godmother's eyes, however, and knew not to overreact to the tone of voice.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, casting his eyes down in mock respect.

Neville's Mum nodded curtly then turned towards Percy and the other Prefects.

"I am taking custody of Mr. Potter so that he can answer some serious questions about his actions this evening," she stated.

Percy's eyes lit up with the thought that Christmas had just come early. He turned towards Harry and shot him a "You're in so much trouble!" smirk.

"I understand, Auror Lieutenant Longbottom," he then intoned.

Alice nodded, and continued in-character. "I am also here to convey a message from your Headmaster…while the situation has been brought under control, there is an ongoing MLE investigation that makes restarting the Feast impractical. Therefore, all students are to remain in their Houses for the evening, and arrangements will be made to bring the Feast into each of the Common Rooms. Do you understand?"

Percy stiffened his back and replied, "Certainly, Auror Lieutenant Longbottom. We shall follow your instructions to the letter."

A corner of Alice's mouth curled up into a half-smile. "Of that I have no doubt…carry on then."

"Ma'am, Yes Ma'am," Percy replied smartly, punctuation this response with a click of his boot heels.

Alice grabbed her godson by the shoulder and pulled him "roughly" out of the door. The touch became much tenderer, however, just as soon as the Portrait-covered entrance closed behind them.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so glad that you're safe," Alice cried, as she pulled the young wizard into a bear hug.

"I'm fine, Auntie," protested. "What's happening?"

Neville's Mum pulled her head back and gave it a quick shake.

"_Not here,"_ she mouthed, nodding towards the magical portrait.

Harry nodded in recognition, and allowed his godmother to take the lead on the way towards his Head of House's office. He was expecting this to turn into an "Auntie Talk" involving his godmother, Minerva and Poppy, so he was pleasantly surprised to find a different pair of interrogators waiting for him.

"Dad! Sirius!" he said with a joyful voice, as Alice and he entered the office.

Auror Captain James Potter smiled as he held up a "wait one minute" finger, then shut the door with a nifty bit of wandless magic. Silencing charms were reapplied before anyone finally spoke.

Harry made a pointed glance at the magical landscape painting that hung behind McGonagall's desk. "What are you guys doing here?"

James smiled and waggled his eyebrows. "The MLE received an anonymous tip about a Troll running rampant within the Castle. I'm leading the investigation, with Auror Lieutenant Longbottom's and Auror Private Black's assistance."

"Taking down a Mountain Troll, eh Harry?" Sirius asked with a grin. "I would have expected Snivellous to have been at the front of your 'to do' queue, but…"

"That's _Professor_ Snivellous," Harry barked back, using his best Headmaster voice.

Sirius slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Oh, of course…where are my manners?"

"Probably wherever you left your pips," Harry quipped, as he inspected the sleeves of his godfather's robes. "Busted back down to Private again, Sirius?"

The wizard shrugged and gave Harry a rakish grin. "Eh, well…easy come, easy go…and go, and go…wouldn't have gotten caught if she hadn't been multi-orgasmic, but…"

"Sirius Black!" Alice spat. "I'll not have you speaking that way to my godson…to your godson!"

The pony-tailed wizard winked at Harry, then apologized for his "unacceptable behavior."

Alice wasn't fooled for a moment, but nobody really expected that she would be.

"So, Dad…what's happened to Hermione? And where'd the Troll come from?"

James Potter held his hand out. "One at a time, son…one at a time…" He then caught Harry's gaze and flicked his eyes almost imperceptibly towards Sirius.

"The young witch that you found in a dead faint is fine, for now," he stated. "Madam Pomfrey was forced to administer some Dreamless Sleep potion…apparently the girl wouldn't stop screaming, or imagining that there were still Trolls running about loose."

"But…"

"Unfortunate bit of timing, I'm afraid," James pressed on. He placed the his right index finger against the side of his nose and tapped it a few times. "The potion was administered just as the Headmaster arrived at the Infirmary to interview the young witch."

Harry's head shot back a bit and he furrowed his eyebrows…he caught his father's hand signal, but what did it mean?

"Yes…that is too bad…so she was screaming and screaming?"

"Apparently so," James replied with a serious nod. "Poppy has diagnosed the poor girl with a severe case of mental distress."

"She has?" Harry asked.

"That's right, pup," Sirius said, waggling his eyebrows. "So serious that the Matron doesn't think that she can treat her here at Hogwarts."

"Is that so?" Harry asked, as he mentally assembled jigsaw puzzle pieces. "So what's to be done?"

"We've been in contact with one of the best _mind_ healers at St. Mungo's," James replied. "She's got specialized _training_ in _blocking_ these sorts of imaginary _monsters_ from taking hold of her mind."

Harry paused, and strung together the words that his father had emphasized. He nodded once he began to catch on.

"So she's to be taken out of the Castle for this treatment…where will she stay…St. Mungo's?"

Alice smiled and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder. "It might take one or two weeks for her to learn how to relax, and _clear her mind _of this attack. It would be best if she were at home with her parents for this treatment, but since they're Muggles, and don't have access to the floo…"

"We offered to have Hermione and one or both of her parents stay in Aber with us," James said with a smile. "The specialists can come and go via floo, but the house is mostly muggle, and your Mum is Muggleborn, so it might be a good way of meeting the Grangers half-way."

"And maybe convince them that their daughter is safe in our world, despite the evidence to the contrary?" Harry asked.

His father nodded. "From all accounts she's a rather brilliant young witch…it would be a shame if her parents decided to pull her from Hogwarts, wouldn't it?"

"Absolutely," Harry replied. "So can I see her before she leaves?"

James shook his head. "The potion will keep her knocked out until morning. Your Uncle Frank has already visited with the girl's parents, and her Mum has agreed to come to Wales to stay with her daughter. Poppy thinks it best that we transport the patient while she's still asleep, so that her mum is by Hermione's side when she wakes up."

"Ah, that makes sense," Harry said, giving his dad a sly smile. "So…her mum is the one that's staying with you, eh?"

His father gave him a short scowl. "Yes, it was their decision…apparently her parents are both dentists, and one has to stay behind to mind their Surgery, at least during the week."

"Of course," Harry replied, rolling his eyes a little. "So what does the Headmaster think of these arrangements?"

Sirius barked out a laugh. "So a Troll runs free in Hogwarts and attacks a student, and the newspapers will scream to know why and how, but the student who might have some answers is pulled from school for a couple of weeks, while a second student is saying that it was Professor Snape who was the hero, rather than himself. Hmmm….what do you think?"

"Yes, I see your point."

"So why'd you do it Harry?" Sirius asked. "Why make the greasy-haired git a hero when it was you who conked the Troll with his own club?"

Harry's eyes darted towards his father, who once again had a finger resting alongside his nose.

"Well that was the Headmaster's idea," Harry explained. "I was pushing for Professor McGonagall to get the credit, but…"

"But any chance to buff up his boy, right?" Sirius asked. "But why not take credit yourself? Think about how your heroism would play with all of the young witches… or with the witch that you rescued?"

Harry snorted. "Two things, dogfather…first, who says that I'm interested in being fancied by all of the young witches? I'm only eleven, for Merlin's sake. And second…if I was looking to score with the ladies, why would I need anything more than what you've already taught me?"

Sirius Black stared at his godson for a few moments, then roared in laughter.

"Well, you've got me there, pup…you've got me there!"

"So Harry, this really is supposed to be an official interview," James stated, as he sat up straight in McGonagall's chair. "Are we to assume, then, that everything you told the Headmaster is an accurate accounting of what took place?"

James's son, mindful of the finger on nose, nodded his head.

"It's just like I said…except…"

"Yes?"

"Well, to be honest, I first tried to cast a blasting curse at the beast, but that didn't work too well."

"Ah, well….no shame in that," Alice offered. She tussled Harry's hair and added, "You are just an Ickle Firsty, right?"

"That's right," said Sirius with a nod. "An Ickle Firsty whose first Flying Lesson has made such a memorable impression on the entire school."

"Business first," James stated. "We were dispatched here to investigate how a Troll got loose in the castle."

"Any answers yet?" Harry asked.

"Now, son…you know that I couldn't tell you anything that I learned while I was on-duty, right?" James asked, a wide smile on his face.

"Oh, right…sorry I asked," Harry replied with a wink.

"But now that the Troll questions are out of the way, I can take my Auror's hat off."

Harry gave his father a curious look.

"And put on what…your dad's hat?"

"More like Head of the House of Potter hat," James replied. "The news of what took place in your Flying Class was distressing enough, but to see this latest prank…"

"Not the work of First Years, I'll tell you that," Sirius said, well…seriously.

"You saw, then?"

All three adults nodded. "The pictures were still playing when we arrived at the Great Hall."

"Why am I not surprised?" Harry stated.

"Well, to be fair…the professors did have a Troll to worry about," said Alice.

"So let me guess…they're still there?"

"Nope," said Sirius. "Blasted the pumpkins into orange mush, just as soon as we ran diagnostics on the charms that had been set."

"Any clues on who did it then?" asked Harry.

"Not really," his godfather admitted. "It's N.E.W.T level enchantments, so it had to be more than just the First Year Snakes involved…might have even had Snape's help."

"Now Sirius, it is irresponsible to make unfounded accusations against Hogwarts faculty," James replied, in a Percy-sounding voice that fooled nobody within the room.

He then turned towards his son and said, "Harry…I know you've expressed a reluctance to fight back in your letters home…"

Harry's eyes shot up to confirm that his dad's finger was still beside his nose.

It was.

"But you've got yourself in a prank war," Sirius added. "And things haven't changed around here one bit from when your dad and I were in school. If they hit you, you've got to hit them back."

"You think so?" Harry asked, with an arched eyebrow.

His godfather nodded, and gave Harry a wink. "It's just like I said in my letter...you and your friend were the victims, so it's got to be you and your friend that strike back."

"It's almost become a matter of family honor," James added. "Nobody is going to blame you for trying to get back at them…the phrase 'young wizards will be young wizards' applies to you as well."

Wheels turned in Harry's head. "So, it's up to me to prank back, and you and Mum won't be upset if I get caught and get a detention or three? Even though you're on the Board?"

James smiled. "That's exactly right, son," he replied, tapping his nose. "And it's because I'm on the Board of Governors that I can't be involved."

"We've trained you well enough to go it alone, haven't we?" Sirius asked with a smile.

Harry snorted softly, and he nodded his head. "Just don't expect anything until after the match with Slytherin…I don't want to give Snape cause to keep me from playing."

"Good thinking," said Sirius. "I can't wait to see you play, and teach those Snakes a lesson about messing with the son of a Marauder!"

"I'd settle for seeing you catch the snitch," James admitted with a smile.

Harry's eyes brightened. "So you'll be there to watch, then?"

"It'd take a pack of nundus to keep me out of those stands," James replied with a smile. "My son…youngest Seeker in a century!"

"Yeah, thanks…don't make me nervous or anything," Harry groused in faux protest.

James stood, walked around the desk, and the boy a hug. "Your Mum and I will be proud of you, Harry…no matter what happens."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Right then…let's get you back to the Tower," said James. "I'm sure that Hermione's dorm mates are going to be anxious to hear about her condition."

Harry frowned. "It's late enough that they might already be in their dormitory."

"So?" asked Sirius.

"So the slide is still in place, godfather," Harry said with a sigh.

"So?"

Harry rolled his eyes, and led the three Aurors out of the office.

Ten seconds later, an oil-painted echo (that Harry and the others had all assumed had been spying on them) popped up from the foliage of the magical painting that hung behind the desk. The spy, who held a quill in one hand, and parchment scroll in the other, congratulated itself on the completeness of his transcription, then ran off of the edge of the canvas so that it could give his report to the Headmaster.


	13. Chapter 13 Minder Week

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 13 – Minder Week**

A conjured bucket of cold water was Harry Potter's first indication that his Quidditch team captain wasn't going to let him dwell on the previous day's "octo-incident."

"What the….?" the young wizard shouted, as he pulled his wand from underneath a soggy pillow and threw open his bed curtains.

"Dressed and downstairs in five, Rookie!" barked Wood. "We're going to brekkers as a team."

"That's not enough time for a shower!"

"Which is why I just saved you the bother…or would you like me to wash behind your ears as well?"

The First Year student scowled, but nodded his acceptance as he cast drying charms on his pajamas and bed linens.

"Didn't know you Firsties had learned that spell already," Ollie stated, as he gawked at the autographed Harpies poster that hung on the wall by Harry's bed. When the younger wizard snorted in response, he added, "Oh, so Mummy and Daddy started you off early?"

"Only with the more useful charms and painful hexes," the black-haired wizard warned. "Oh, and of course, with the broomstick."

"Yes, well thank Merlin for that," Wood said crisply. "Down to four minutes, Rookie."

"Aye-Aye, Captain!" Harry barked sarcastically, throwing in a military salute for effect.

The first of those four minutes was spent cursing the early hour, and throwing back the pillows that Ron and Seamus had tossed in anger for waking them up early. This barely left time to use the loo, dress, and rush down to the Common Room, where most of team had already gathered.

"Morning, Harry," offered Katie, who was standing by the portal. "Sleeping with your familiar again?"

"No, what makes you say that?"

"Because you've still got a bird's nest in your hair!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well at least I was born with this unruly mop…what's your excuse Bell?"

Angelina Johnson smirked, then walked up to the green-eyed wizard and ran her fingers through his locks.

"Don't mind her, Luv," she purred. "I like your bed-head. It gives a witch…ideas."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed as the dark-skinned witch scraped her nails against his scalp...the skin contact had just topped-off his energy levels...which gave a certain wizard ideas about where Angelina's fingers had been recently.

"Hey Johnson, stop molesting the Ickle Firstie!" protested Fred.

"Yeah, need to keep his mind focused on snitches rather than snatch!" quipped George.

"Watch it, Weasley!" Angelina growled, as her fingers slipped out of Harry's hair and gripped her wand.

"No thanks, I'm really not into voyeurism."

"That's not what your brother says," quipped Angelina.

George frowned and turned towards his twin.

"Hey, bro…I thought we agreed not to kiss and tell?"

"Alright, pipe down, team,!" bellowed Wood, seeing the last of the team emerge from the stairwell to the girls dormitory. "Spinnet…Greengrass…you're late!"

"My fault, Captain," Daphne said with a yawn, as she pulled her long black hair into a loose pony tail.

"No worries, we'll all just get up a half-hour earlier tomorrow!"

The declaration generated lots of groaning and complaints, as the next day was Sunday.

"Pipe down, pipe down!" Wood bellowed. "They'll be plenty of time to get your beauty sleep after the match."

"So why weren't you acting like this last year, Captain?" asked Fred.

"Because I was a bloody idiot," Wood replied, as he pulled a piece of parchment from a pocket. "And now that I've learned from my mistakes…here's the lineup for transit to the Great Hall. There will be four rows of two…Fred and me in front, followed by Potter and Greengrass, Johnson and Spinnet, Bell and George."

"Oh, Merlin," whinged Fred. "So, have you drawn up plays for us to use the loo as well?"

Ollie frowned. "If that's what's needed to keep your nose clean over the next week, then yes."

"Why would Fred need to worry about a dirty nose in the loo?" quipped Angelina with a smile.

"Hey now…enough of that Johnson!" warned the Third-Year Beater.

"So it'll be like this all week, then?" Daphne asked.

"Absolutely," the Captain replied. "For the next eight days we're going to take meals as a team, train as a team, and study as a team. And when we aren't walking together as a team, you'll have minders to help you get to your classes."

"Minders?" Harry asked.

Wood looked at his watch and nodded. "Should be here by now, actually. Form up, then…off we go."

Three members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team were indeed on the other side of the Fat Lady's portrait, ready to escort the Gryffindors down to the Great Hall. Two took the lead with wand drawn, while the third brought up the rear with a pair of omnioculars hanging in a strap from her trip provided just enough time for Ollie to explain what was going on to Harry and Daphne (who now had a buffer of four witches and wizards both front and back).

Hufflepuff's hopes to win the Cup for the first time in four decades had been dashed the year previous, when its Keeper and Seeker were ambushed by a group of Slytherin students a few days before the deciding match. While nobody had been seriously injured, Snape just happened to be the first Professor on the scene, and decided that every participant in the fight would receive weekend detentions.

The fact that none of the involved Slytherin students played for their house team was lost on no one…especially on game day, when the Badgers (playing without their starting seeker and keeper), were trounced.

This year, the captains of the non-Slytherin teams weren't taking any chances. During the week before any of the three teams played against the Snakes, the other two teams would go on "minder duty," and escort that team's players whenever they were in common areas of the Castle. These escorts were tasked with providing "independent" witness to any confrontation with a Slytherin. The minders would also be the first to draw wands (if need be), so that any detentions assigned after the fact wouldn't affect that weekend's match.

There wasn't much discussion about the previous night within the ranks; everyone in Gryffindor House already knew about Hermione Granger's "medical leave of absence", thanks to a late-night meeting in the Common Room called by their Head of House. Not everyone in the other houses was as well-informed though, so the dull roar of rumors and wild tales being told over eggs and bacon grew even louder when Harry and his teammates arrived at the Great Hall. Most of the students were already there (despite the early Saturday morning hour), anxious to talk about the "prank" and the troll.

In an effort to quell the cacophony, the Headmaster stood up from his spot at the front table, and announced that portion of the truth (as he knew it) that he cared to share with the school…the Troll had had been captured by Professor Snape, and the MLE performed a thorough investigation and complete sweep of the school grounds. Dumbledore reassured the students that they were safe, and praised the efforts of the Prefects during the Great Hall's evacuation.

Any hopes the Headmaster might have had concerning the adequacy of his remarks were quashed once he sat back down. The chatter grew even louder, with most of the comments focusing on Hermione Granger, and his failure to comment on her whereabouts. Dumbledore was therefore forced to stand once more, and announce that while there had been no physical injuries associated with the Troll's attack, that one student was recovering from the "awful fright" of coming face-to-face with a Troll, and was therefore taking a "short recuperative leave of absence."

Harry Potter didn't at all care for the looks of glee on the faces of those sitting at the Slytherin Table. Theodore Nott was laughing, and when he caught Harry staring at him, licked a finger and added an imaginary tally mark to an invisible scoreboard.

Fred Weasley, who was sitting across from Harry, did his own bit of observation, then turned back to face the First Year.

"This can't go unanswered, you know," he stated.

Harry nodded. "Can't be any answer, though, until after the match."

"Good point," Fred's brother agreed, as he joined in on the conversation. "Need any help formulating a response?"

Harry glanced down the table, and spied Percy Weasley frowning back at him. He rolled his eyes and leaned forward.

"This has gotten personal, guys…I appreciate the offer, but…"

"It's more than just you and Hermione, though," offered Daphne, who was sitting by Harry's side. "The message has to go out that this sort of think won't be tolerated, or all of the witches will need sticking charms attached to their knickers."

Fred and George stared at the black-haired witch as if she'd just grown another head.

George glanced over his shoulder towards the Head Table for a moment, then turned back and smiled.

"Wouldn't have expected that from you, Gwol."

"Gwol?" Harry asked.

Daphne sighed. "These two tagged me with that nickname years ago…it's the hyphen-free short form of 'Girl-Wh0-Lived'."

Harry hadn't heard the nickname before, but it made sense. It also made sense that Fred and George had known Daphne growing up, since they lived near the Diggories, and she knew Cedric really well.

The _Fidelius_ charm stopped Harry from connecting dots any further, so he focused on the Twins' teasing.

"And you don't mind, Daphne?"

"Meh…I've heard worse."

Harry snorted. "So I won't have to hex these two to defend your honor, then?"

Daphne smiled and shook her head. Placing a hand on Harry's arm, she then replied, "Thanks, but you've got enough of your plate as Hermione's Champion."

"Exactly!" George hissed.

Daphne then asked, "So how are we going to go about it, Sir Knight?"

Harry turned to Daphne with a slightly befuddled look on his face.

"We, Daphne?"

The Girl-Who-Lived shrugged. "Well…I did say that it went beyond you and Hermione, didn't I?"

The green-eyed wizard nodded, thought for a moment, then glanced back down the breakfast table.

"Oy, Percy!" he called out with a frown. "Can you read lips well enough, or should we provide you a transcription?"

Fred and George followed Harry's stare towards their scowling older brother, then chuckled.

"Why don't you let us take care of Three-Pee for you?" asked Fred.

A muffin was tossed from the opposite direction that struck the red-haired beater on the side of the head.

"No pranks until after the match!" hissed Oliver Wood.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Aye, Captain!" he cheerfully replied.

"It_ would_ be best if we discussed this with fewer ears about," noted Daphne.

George agreed. "Yeah, you're right. And it's not like there won't be plenty of opportunity…looks like Wood's going to make sure we spend lots of time together over the next week."

**oo00OO00oo**

The red-haired twin's prediction was borne out in spades. Oliver Wood had reached out beyond the lengthy practice sessions and assumed complete control over the roster's daily life. Practically every waking moment outside of the classroom was spent with the team, including daily practices and joint study and homework completion sessions. There were advantages to this regimen, of course…Gryffindor's Seeker had quickly grown sick of Ron Weasley's "helpful advice," and Wood's micro-management kept the pestering opportunities to a minimum.

Harry was less happy, though, that access to his friends was similarly curtailed. There had been almost no opportunity to even say hello to Neville or Susan, or to compare notes with the other Welsh students. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had more of a chance to be with Harry and Daphne in the Gryffindor Common Room and in classes, but not that much more. Even Hermione would have had just as little opportunity for contact, which is something that helped Harry tolerate her absence from the castle.

Of course, time not spent with friends was quality "teammate time," and the week did allow the green-eyed First Year student to bond with the other Quidditch players…and to fully embrace their no-spells-barred bantering and locker-room humor. By the end of the week Harry could honestly say that he knew each as a friend. And for his female teammates…maybe just a bit closer than that.

It wasn't his fault, of course.

Wood's minder schedule had kept the demi-demon from getting the kind of casual contact with the rest of the student body that kept his energy levels topped off and fears of another octo-incident tamped down. There were no hunting and gathering" trips to the other tables at breakfast…or in the library…or within the halls in between classes. Harry had his inhalers for back-up, of course, but the demon-side was beginning to think they tasted a little stale.

In other words, during "Minder Week," Harry spent a lot of time minding the Gryffindor Chasers, and relying upon their busy fingers.

The problem, though, was that Ollie's tiring practice regimen had become a libido killer. The declining rate of energy production was almost linear…three for three on the first two mornings, but no Katie on day three, only Angelina on day four, and on Wednesday morning….0 for 3 (and 0 stood for zed, rather than orgasm).

Harry had shrugged it off, and emptied an inhaler cartridge over the course of that day. But when the cupboards were just as bare on Thursday morning, he began to get concerned. Ollie didn't wank (no doubt fearful that he might sprain his Keeper grip in the process). Fred and George were always available (they were apparently either more resilient, or more practiced wankers than the girls), but that just seemed…wrong. It was therefore a discrete puff of the inhaler, and the hope that there'd be a chance encounter during the day.

The Gryffindor side had the pitch booked for the second session that Thursday afternoon (having alternated blocks of time with Slytherin during the week), so Ollie drilled the team well past the point when the sun slipped behind the heath-covered hills. The weary team aimed their brooms towards the Keeper at the sound of his whistle, fully expecting to be sent to the showers. Wood, however, had been unhappy with the performance of his Beaters, so after dismissing Harry and the four witches he held Fred and George back for additional drills.

When Harry and his female teammates arrived at their lockers, Daphne quickly passed through the co-ed dressing area and disappeared into the witch's showers.

Angelina rolled her eyes as she plopped down onto a bench and kicked off her boots and socks. "Wish that she'd relax and wind down with the rest of us," she observed.

"I'm sure it's having a wizard in the room that makes her shy," offered Harry.

"I certainly acted the same way last year," offered Katie.

"But now that you've grown older, and grown bolder, and grown titties…" teased Alicia.

"Tell me that you were any different when you were an Ickle Firsty?" Katie demanded.

"Well, since my baps blossomed summer before first year, I can't," Alicia replied, as she casually stripped off her practice robes and threw them into a elf-emptied dirty clothes bin. She then winked at the only wizard in the room and added, "But I might have if Harry had been on the team."

"Same for me," Angelina said, as she took hold of the hem of her robes, and wiggled her bum so that she could slip them up and over her head without rising from her seat.

Harry snorted. He knew that the girls weren't putting on a special show just for him, as they'd stripped down like this before when Ollie and the Twins were in the room. And it wasn't all that revealing…yet. His female teammates all wore cotton bloomers that ran down to mid-calf, along with cotton t-shirts underneath high-collared padded leather jerkins that protected their torsos against bludger attacks.

He wasn't dressed all that differently…just swap the bloomers for trousers, and add sleeves to the shirts they wore underneath the leather jackets.

Alicia did more wincing than ogling when Harry stripped off his jacket and t-shirt.

"Ouch, that looks like it hurts!" she stated, pointing towards a bruise on Harry's left side.

The First Year shrugged. "Kiss and make it better, Spinnet?"

"Might be tempted if it were a little lower."

"And more centrally located," Angelina added.

Harry chuckled. "Now that might actually be worth a fanny shot."

"Well I didn't need a bludger to make my seat sore," Angelina whinged, as she rubbed her bloomer-covered inner thighs. "I'm about ready to kill our captain for stripping the cushioning charms off of our brooms…"

"Me too," added Alicia. "although he was right about the gain in maneuverability."

Angelina shook her head. "Doesn't matter if I'm worrying more about stick sores than the Quaffle."

"Sounds like something that Healer Harry should diagnose," quipped the only wizard in the room.

"You wish, Stud."

"Maybe," Harry replied with a grin.

"Well I'm too stiff to even get my robes off," Katie complained, as she rubbed her right shoulder.

"What's wrong, Bell?" asked Harry.

"Sore arm from throwing all those shots on hoops."

Harry walked behind Katie's spot on the wooden bench and lightly placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Maybe a rub will loosen it up?"

"It's her arm that hurts, not her fanny," Angelina snarked.

"A shoulder rub," Harry qualified.

"Oooh, our lad finally makes a move while the other boys are out of the room!" snarked Alicia.

"It's not like that at all," he protested.

"Oh, Harry, you don't have to…..aaaaaaaaah!"

"Does that hurt?" he asked, backing off on the finger pressure that he'd just applied.

"No, keep going…that's the spot…." Katie hissed.

"Great," the bare-chested boy replied, as he began to kneed Katie's sore shoulder muscles.

The Second Year's mews and quiet moans encouraged Harry to continue, and within thirty seconds Katie's shoulder had loosened up enough to allow the other two witches to gently slip off her robes and jacket.

This didn't mean that Harry's job was done, however…just meant that he now had fewer layers to work through. Not to mention other sore spots to rub, once Katie turned and lay face down on the bench.

"So where else does it hurt?" Harry asked.

"All over," Katie replied, as she closed her eyes and let her arms hang down to the floor.

As Angelina and Alicia looked on with envy, Harry began to loosen her sore back muscles with the firm touch of his strong hands over her t-shirt.

"Where did you ever learn to do this?" Katie asked (though it came out as more of a moan than a question.)

"My dad taught me," Harry replied with a smile.

"He must be brilliant, then."

Harry smiled, as he worked near the base of the witch's spine. "Yeah, he is…sometimes when he rubs my mum's back she says it's like he has two extra sets of hands."

"Well he should be proud of his teaching skills," Katie purred. The moaning became more despondent though, when the rubbing stopped.

"Keep going," the Second Year urged.

"But…"

"Yes, that's sore too," Katie replied. "Don't worry, Harry…we won't say anything, will we girls?"

"Not as long as we get turns," Alicia quipped.

Harry worried his lower lip with his teeth and glanced at the entrance to the locker room.

"I'll keep watch," Alicia offered, as she moved towards the door.

The young wizard shook his head. "That would only make it look worse," he decided. "How many detentions would Snape pile on if he spied my hands on your arses?"

Katie tried to encourage Harry with an insistent kick. But the First Year was far too quick, and caught her foot in his hand.

"Behave!" he lightly chided.

"Oh, yes, thank you Harry…a foot massage would be lovely as well."

The demi-demon frowned at the way Katie was wiggling her bloomer-covered bum in expectation, and decided that payback was in order.

"So, your foot is sore from all of the Quaffle tossing?" he asked.

"No, but don't let that stop you."

"Yes, Memsaib," Harry replied, with a Gunga Din-style accent and stiff bow. He then firmly pressed two stiff fingers into a spot on the bottom of Katie's foot that was located two-thirds of the distance from the heal to the ball.

The reaction was as quick as it was predictable…the Second Year witch let out a moan that hinted at far more pleasure than pain-relief.

"Oh…Sweet Goddess!"

Harry smiled and pulled his fingers back.

"More?"

"Oh, fuck yes!" Katie gasped.

"What are you doing to her, Potter?" asked Alicia.

"Just a little Muggle reflexology," Harry said with a grin, as he pressed down on the spot again.

"Yes! Oh Yes! Oh Yes!" cried the squirming witch.

"Hey, let me try another one," said Harry, as he began to rub in the indent of her outer anklebone, between the ankle and Achilles tendon.

"Don't stop...that fel…..uck! That's even better!"

"Careful, Harry, we don't want any wet spots on the bench," quipped Angelina.

"Too late," Katie moaned.

Harry laughed at the joke…or, at least, what he thought was a joke. He kept alternating between the two pressure points for most of a minute, before Angelina intervened with a slap to Katie's bum.

"Right then, my turn," the older witch announced.

"Noooo! I'm almost there," moaned Katie. "Just a bit more rubbing…."

"You'll just have to take care of that yourself, then," Alicia stated, as she pushed Katie off of the bench and onto the floor.

The Second Year pouted, and for a moment it looked like she might "take care of that" right there on the floor. But then she rolled over to her knees, stood, and made a dash for the witch's shower room.

"Skip the foreplay, Rookie," Alicia ordered, as she placed her foot in Harry's lap. He smiled, and soon had the dirty-blond haired witch in an equally hot and bothered state.

Angelina sent Alicia off to the showers just before she got off, claiming that it wouldn't be fair if she also didn't get the chance to "relax." The Third Yearwas primed for a release even before Harry took hold of her foot. And she would have gone over the edge when Harry started in on the second pressure point, had it not been for the ill-timed arrival of three minders from Hufflepuff.

Angelina made a quick exit to the showers, leaving it for the sweaty bare-chested wizard to answer questions about what they'd been doing. The oldest of the three was skeptical about Harry's innocence, but was willing to "overlook" what they'd walked in on so long as he would be willing to provide his "post-practice therapeutic foot massages" to the Hufflepuff team after one of their scheduled practices.

The young wizard shrugged his shoulders and agreed. The Puff making the request was a pretty Sixth-Year witch…pretty enough to overlook the possibility that he'd also be rubbing the stinky feet of her male teammates.

**oo00OO00oo**

Harry was out of the showers and getting dressed when Wood finally showed up with the Twins. With assurances that they'd be washed up and ready to head for dinner in only a few minutes time, Ollie sent his Seeker out back into the common area to wait for the rest of the team.

The black-haired wizard walked into an empty front room. Ollie had chased the Hufflepuff minders back out into the hall, and his female teammates had not yet emerged from their showers. So Harry sat facing the front door and pulled out his "playscroll" and reviewed Chaser formations until he felt an electrifying touch to the back of his neck.

"Hey, Harry…," purred Angelina.

The demi-demon closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and basked in the glow of a "just-picked" orgasm.

"Feel better?" Harry asked, as a grin crept onto his face.

"Much," Angelina replied. "Although…might be prudent to have someone to check my fanny for stick sores…"

"Figured that you girls were doing that to each other...it was taking so long."

The Third Year witch let out a husky laugh. "No, we were too busy doing...other things."

"We?" Harry asked. "Sounds like a party I wish I'd had an invite for."

"Maybe next time, Rookie," Alicia stated, as she sat down to Harry's left and gave him a quick peck on his cheek.

The demi-demon let out a gasp as energy moved from her lips to his face...it was the first time that he'd fed off of a kiss. And then the second time happened, as Katie sat on his other side and mirrored Alicia's actions.

Giggling at the sight of Harry's blush, Angelina asked, "What's the matter, Rookie…never been kissed before?"

Harry chuckled and quickly regained his wits…and his wit.

"No, I've snogged plenty…but never in a threeway."

"Well we could skip over the three-way sex and go for a full foursome," Angelina quipped, as she played some more with Harry's hair.

"Now, Angelina…can't be neglecting our teammates," Katie admonished.

"What…Ollie and the Twins?"

"No, silly," Katie replied, as she gave the older witch a swat on the bum and nodded towards the corner of the room.

"Why, you're absolutely right," Angelina replied. "Come over here, Daphne, and let our lad here give you a rub."

"Hey!" Harry protested. "Be nice."

Daphne turned her back on the four, so that they couldn't see how deeply she was blushing, or how she thought her body might be reacting to the suggestion.

Ollie dragged Fred and George out of the boys' shower area before the situation could become even more awkward for the First Year witch. Ranks were once again formed up, and the team marched off towards dinner.

"Sorry about that," Harry whispered to Daphne, as they walked side-by-side.

The black-haired witch shook her head. "It's not your fault."

"Yeah it is…I could have cut the conversation off sooner."

"But that was with them," Daphne replied. "And that's…that's how it is on this team, right?"

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable," Harry replied.

Daphne turned towards the green-eyed wizard and risked a slight smile.

"It's okay …I don't mind…it's….it's just going to take a little longer for me to become comfortable enough to...to tease that way."

Harry frowned. "Well…just let me know next time…give me a signal or something."

Daphne smiled. "So, is that an offer to be my Champion, brave Sir Knight?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it's just an offer to be the kind of friend that I should be."

"Fair enough," replied Daphne. "I suppose that Hermione wouldn't want to share her Champion, anyway."

Harry only let out a small snort in reply, as they'd just entered the Castle.

Which was just as well, because if he'd voiced a response he might have betrayed his thoughts…thoughts that being shared by Hermione and Daphne was something that he hoped to enjoy a few years down the road.


	14. Chapter 14 Family Matters

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**Warning: **Chapter includes descriptions of parents being intimate with each other (Ewwww!).

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 14 – Family Business**

Early on the morning of the first match of the Hogwarts Quidditch Season…_very _early…James Potter threw back the blankets on his bed, bounced over to the bedroom windows, and drew open the curtains.

"Why are you standing there naked?" Lily moaned, as she pulled her portion of blankets closer and guarded against the predawn chill.

Her husband pulled his head back in from the opened windows and announced, "Checking for overnight owls."

The auburn-haired witch rolled her eyes. "For Merlin's sake…you told Harry to use the mirror to let us know if he received a last-minute game-day detention."

"Yes, but what if Snivellous or Dumbledore confiscated it?" James asked. "You know they wouldn't allow him to keep a direct means of communication with us if it was discovered."

"And if they did that, do you really think that they'd then let him inform us of that fact via owl post?"

"Bah…never know with those two," said James, as he closed the windows, turned back towards the bed, and cast a _Tempus _spell.

"Five-fifteen…too early to wake the girls and get them dressed for the game?"

"Don't you dare!" Lily hissed. "We've got guests sleeping just down the hallway, remember?"

"So?"

"So I'll not have them bothered by your noisy game-day rituals and antics before sunrise!"

"Are you not a witch?" asked James. "Besides, you cast the silencing charms around the guest bedroom yourself."

"The answer is still no."

"But Lils…sunrise is at least an hour away!"

"Which is why you should still be in bed."

"Too much energy to fall back asleep," James protested. "Unless you wanted to…"

"No," Lily replied sharply. "I'm staying underneath the covers."

"But why? You know how much I love to admire your body."

"Because it's too cold?"

"Are you not a witch?"

"Are you not my husband, and know that warming charms aren't the same as blankets for me?"

"Okay, so we'll just stay underneath the covers."

"As if that has ever worked, once your tentacles start flailing about!"

"Is that a complaint?" James asked.

Lily turned away from her husband and pulled one of his pillows over the top of her head.

"No, it's a statement of fact," she mumbled through the linens.

"Okay, fine," James pouted.

Since he was already out of bed and more than half-way to the en suite bath, the black-haired wizard left the bedroom long enough to empty his bladder and banish his morning breath…just in case. He returned to the room with minty teeth and a devilish idea that got him more than a little horny.

And more than a little tentacled.

Two of James's extra appendages extended out towards Lily's vanity, and grabbed hold of its cloth-covered bench. The piece of furniture was lifted up off the carpeted floor and carried in a graceful arc over both their bed and James's head. When the bench came to rest just behind the demi-demon, he uncoiled his tentacles from its wooden legs, and quietly sat down.

James used the dim light that came through the windows to examine the blanket-covered form of his wife. He smiled, and reached down for his bits while his tentacles extended out and snaked underneath the bed covers.

When the tips of his probing tentacles touched Lily's legs, she hissed, "James! What are you doing!"

"Snuggling," he replied innocently.

Lily's leg muscles tensed as tentacles coiled around each of her legs like the railing of a spiral staircase. Some of that tension was immediately relieved, though, when the remaining two limbs began to massage her upper back.

"Snuggling my arse!" she half-heartedly complained, as she turned onto to her stomach.

"If you wish," quipped James, as the tips of his coiled limbs darted up and prodded the meaty parts of her buttocks.

"Hmmmmmm…" Lily moaned involuntarily. She pulled the pillow from her head and asked, "Are you certain that the silencing charms are still up within our bedroom?"

James snorted as he reinforced the magical noise barriers. "Why would we need silencing charms if all we're doing is snuggling?" he asked.

"You know bloody well why," Lily replied, as her breath began to shorten.

The demi-demon smiled and savored his wife's willing surrender. He scooted the bench close enough to the bed to rest his spread legs on top of the foot board and began to idly stroke himself.

"So where would you like me to rub?" he asked.

"After twelve years of marriage and fourteen years of shagging you don't know?? Lily moaned.

"No, I know alright," James replied. "Just thought it'd be polite for me to ask."

Lily squirmed, and clenched her pelvic muscles when the tip of one of his tentacles began to prod her blanket-covered fanny.

"And you're just asking to rub my back?"

"Would you rather I ask if I could shag you senseless?"

Blankets were flung off the bed as Lily pushed up onto her hands and knees and reached back to grab the limb that was now teasing just the right spot.

"Thought that you were cold?" James asked brightly.

"Just shut up and reel me in," Lily ordered.

"Yes, Dear," her husband replied. The one loose tentacle wrapped itself around Lily's torso, just beneath her hanging breasts, and gently lifted her off of the bed. The fanny-rubbing limb pulled back, giving clearance for the leg-wrapped limbs to rotate Lily's body into a spread-legged sitting position above the surface of the bed.

The black-haired wizard pulled Lily's hovering body back towards him, until she was "sitting" in the air just above his face. He had but a moment to savor the sights and smells of his wife's obvious excitement before she reached down in between her thighs and firmly grabbed his nose.

"Hey" James protested.

"Hey, nothing, Mister...are you going to shag me or not?"

"Geeez," he replied with a smile. "And here I thought it was the woman that always complained about lack of foreplay."

The three tentacles that supported Lily's weight then twisted, spread and lowered her into the kind of sex position that Muggles could only achieve with harnesses or zero-gravity environments.

Not to say that a valiant attempt wasn't being made at that very moment within the guest bedroom across the hall…

**oo00OO00oo**

"_Yes!…Oh Fuck Yes, Doctor!....Drill Me!....Drill Me Deep!...Deeper!...Deeper!..."_

Roger Granger was long past worrying about whether or not his wife's coarse language would carry out into the rest of the Potter residence…about six hours past, to be exact, which is when Hermione's mum had dragged him into their room after only the barest of introductions to their hosts and ripped off his trousers. If the silencing charms that he'd been told were in effect hadn't failed by now, they weren't going to fail.

Instead, the Muggle dentist focused on desperately trying to delay his third ejaculation of the night as he pounded into his wife's fanny from behind.

"_Almost there, stud…Oh! Fuck that's good….Drill me!... Drill, Baby...Drill!.... Almost…..Oh, God! You're in so Deep, Doctor!...Almost…"_

Hermione's mum's dirty talk died, and she froze while backed up against her husband's crotch. This was the tell-tale sign for him to pause, and help her usher in yet another powerful orgasm. A four-letter word was then shouted at the top of Emily's lungs, and as her vaginal walls clamped down on his erection and her legs shook involuntarily in release. That, in turn, sent Roger over the edge and he spilled more semen than he thought possible into his wife's womb.

As soon as she could catch half of a breath, Emily launched her body forward, allowing her husband to slip out of her. She then flipped over onto her back, grabbed behind each knee, and pulled her bent legs back towards her heaving chest.

Roger hovered on his hands and knees for a moment, then plopped down onto the bed next to his wife as he tried to make sense of her actions. She'd done the same thing the other two times that he'd filled her that night, but he hadn't dared ask why…when your wife is giving you the best sex that you've had in years you don't want to pose potentially upsetting questions. But as he was quite certain that he was spent for at least a few hours, he finally voiced his curiosity.

"Emily?"

"Yes, love?"

"Is there a reason why you're trying to keep my cum from leaking out?"

"Yes, love."

"Oh…but…I thought that the doctors were certain that we couldn't have more children after Hermione's birth."

"They were."

"So…have you seen a different doctor here in Wales?"

Emily smiled, and released one of her bent knees so that she could reach over and loosely cup her husband's bits.

"Not a doctor, love…a Healer."

"A Healer…you mean a Magical Doctor?"

"That's right," Emily replied, as she shifted her grip and began to stroke Roger's shaft.

"And he…or she…was able to magically fix…."

Hermione's father's eyes went wide as he rolled over onto his wife.

Her eyes were shedding tears of joy.

"It was a physiological reaction to Hermione's magic," Emily explained. "The baby's magic keeps a non-magical mother from having additional magical children."

"So…all those miscarriages…"

"It's not Hermione's fault, Roger!"

"Oh, no…I'm not saying that…could be some protective mechanism…."

"It is," Emily replied. "It's also something that is easily cured with magic. The Hogwarts Matron came by a few days ago, and waved her wand over my stomach, and…it's wonderful, don't you think?"

"It's fucking brilliant!" Roger replied.

"Language, honey!" Emily admonished.

"Says the woman who just instructed me to shove my massive cock up her hot, wet quim?"

Emily blushed in response…a little.

"Is that a complaint, sweetheart?"

"Absolutely not!" Roger backtracked. "You know I love it when you let yourself go and do the X-rated Harlequin talk."

"Good."

"So, Emily…this Healer's magic is going to finally give Hermione the brother or sister that she's always wanted?"

"No, the Healer's magic is going to make it possible for us to give her a sibling. You and I still have to get things done the normal way."

Roger thought that "normal" wasn't a term easily applied to the kind of raw sex they'd just engaged in, but wasn't going to even try to make a joke out of it.

"Does this mean, then….we could have already have made a baby?"

Emily smiled, spread her legs, and pulled her husband down into a warm, wet embrace.

"It's unlikely," she replied, as she nibbled on his ear. "I'm not due to ovulate for another week or so, but…we might as well practice, right?"

Roger smiled, and ground his bits against his wife's.

"Practice makes perfect, I guess."

"Mmmmm….that was pretty close to perfect that last time, lover," Emily purred.

"So…still room for improvement?"

Emily reached down in response, and gave Roger's rod a squeeze. Her eyes lit up when she realized that he was hard again.

"Ready for round four, champ?" she asked.

Hermione's dad pushed up onto his elbows and smiled down at his wife. He then cocked his hips at just the right angle, and slid the tip of his erection into her without need of guiding hand.

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Emily purred, as she dug her fingernails into her husband's bum and pulled him home.

**oo00OO00oo**

Freshly showered and shaved, Hermione's father slipped out of the guest bedroom a few hours later with tired eyes and a wicked grin on his face. Hearing some conversation in the kitchen, he ambled in that direction and spied Emmy Vance taking water off of the boil. The "You'd smile too if you'd just been shagged" grin morphed into something much more tender when he spotted Hermione and Harry's two sisters at the kitchen table with coloring markers in hand.

Nightly telephone conversations with his wife and daughter over the previous week had briefed him in on the kind of magic that Hermione was doing. But nothing had been said about arts and crafts projects…or the kinds of non-literary activities (like coloring) that his little girl had always considered to be "childish."

Hermione looked up from her art work too soon for her father to come up with the perfect quip. She squealed in delight, jumped out of her chair and rushed into her father's embrace.

"Daddy!"

"Hey, there, sweetheart," Roger replied, patting his daughter's back. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too!" Hermione stated, as she dragged him towards the table. "I was terribly disappointed that mum wouldn't let me wait up for you last night."

"Tea or coffee, Roger?" asked Emmy.

"Tea would be lovely…one sugar and a spot of milk."

"You two have met, then?" Hermione asked.

"Last night, when I arrived from the station," her father explained.

"Well then, this is Nia and Morgan…they're Harry's sisters."

"Pleased to meet you," Roger said, giving to two girls a smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Granger," Morgan replied politely.

"Is mummy still resting?" Hermione asked.

Roger nodded. "Just for a bit longer… I couldn't wait to see my little girl."

"Did you really travel by train from London?" asked Nia.

"Yes, I did…got in just before midnight."

"How long did it take?"

"A little more than five and a half hours."

The youngest Potter's mouth formed an o-shape in amazement.

"That's….that's…..that's forever!"

Roger let out an amused snort, as Harry's older sister frowned.

"Wouldn't it have been faster to travel by airplane, Mr. Granger?"

"Don't think so," Roger stated. "I would have probably still needed to fly to Birmingham and take the train from there, and by the time you make the connections…"

"My class traveled to Birmingham by train," Morgan said sagely. "That was a three hour trip each way."

Roger raised an eyebrow. "Why would magical school students travel by train?"

"The girls attend local Muggle schools," Emmy interjected, as she placed a cup of tea and saucer in his hands.

"Is that common?" Hermione's father asked, just before taking a sip.

"No, not really…most children in magical families are home-schooled before Hogwarts, as there aren't any magical primary schools…at least not in Britain."

Roger nodded in understanding as he looked for a clear spot on the table to set down his tea cup. He pointed at the white banner that covered most of the table and hung off both ends and asked, "So what are you lovely ladies working on?"

"It's a banner for today's Quidditch match," said Morgan.

"That's right…your brother is playing today, isn't he?"

"Yes, Harry will be brilliant!" Nia declared proudly, while she colored a dragon's scales with a red marker. "I can't wait."

"What's that...something in Welsh?" asked Roger, pointing towards the text in the middle of the cloth.

"_Prif Weinidog Potter,"_ Hermione answered a nod. "It means 'Potter for President'."

"So there's a magical president, instead of a prime minister?"

"No, but 'Potter for Minister of Magic' wouldn't leave enough room for the coats-of-arms," Morgan replied.

Roger tilted his head and took a good look at the identical shields.

"Potter family crest?"

"That's right!" young Nia declared. "Purple ghouls and oars, and a leek, and a dragon fighting a griffin."

Morgan giggled. "Almost."

"What do you mean?" Nia demanded.

"It's actually _Per Pale Gules and Or, on a Chief Argent a Leek, Combatant a Gryphon Sergeant Or and a Dragon Rampant Gules_."

"My, that's quite a mouthful," said Roger, as he worked through the heraldic terms….the shield was divided horizontally, and colored red on left, yellow on right. There was a white band across the top of the shield with a green leek lying horizontally within it. Beneath, a gold griffon and red dragon faced each other in a combative pose.

"It's not as long as Hermione's description of the Granger coat-of-arms," Morgan replied.

"Shush," the brown-haired witch admonished.

"I didn't know that our family had a coat-of-arms," Roger replied.

"Oh you don't just yet," the youngest witch piped in.

"Nia!" Hermione hissed.

"Something I should know, sweetheart?" Roger asked.

"No, Daddy…it's just that…I've just been playing around with a design," Hermione stated. "The magical world is still rather…erm…traditional…when it comes to families and clans."

"Feudal might be a more apt adjective," Emmy said with a snort.

"So every magical family has a coat-of-arms," Hermione explained. "And since there isn't a registered coat-of-arms for the Granger clan, and since I'm the first magical person within the family, so far as we know…."

"That's great, sweetheart," Roger said with a smile. "I'm happy to see that you've approached this in your usual take charge and charge forward style…so what have you come up with?"

Hermione worried her lower lip with her teeth as she reached across the table and pulled a flat piece of parchment from a small pile.

"Since you're the Patriarch, it's really up to you," she said quietly. "And it's really just a few ideas thrown together with mum's help…."

Roger nodded as he leaned over his daughter's shoulder and inspected her art work.

"It's very creative," he declared. "Have you come up with a fancy way of describing it?"

Hermione nodded as she reached for a separate piece of parchment with some text written upon it.

"Yes, Daddy, this would be…_Quarterly gules and or, in the first quarter a dexter arm, couped and embowed, in hand a wand, wheat ear, and dental pick, in the second quarter a griffin sergeant gules, in the third quarter a dragon passant gules, and in the fourth quarter a lion rampant or."_

"Wow, I'm impressed," said Roger. "So…a wheat ear, and a dental pick, and a wand?"

"That's right…there was a Muggle version of this crest that had three wheat ears in hand, to reflect the agricultural origin of our name, but since you and mum are dentists, and I'm a witch…"

"I love it!" stated Roger. He punctuated this declaration with a kiss atop Hermione's mass of curly brown hair. "And the red griffin and dragons…they're the same as on the Potter crest, right?"

Harry's sisters snickered at this observation, as Hermione's cheeks tinged red.

"So what about this gold lion, then?" Roger continued.

His daughter pulled herself together enough to explain that it was a Gryffindor lion, and reflected (along with the crest's colors) where the Sorting Hat had placed her.

"And what about this bit of Latin up on the top?" asked Roger.

"That's where you put the family's motto," Hermione said with a smile.

Roger pursed his lips. "It's been years since Latin class, but let's see…_Forget not to work…something…of the tooth._"

Roger furrowed his eyebrows. "What does 'funicuous' mean, Hermione?"

"It's the Latin term for a thin piece of string, Daddie."

Hermione's father nodded, then his eyes lit up as he solved the puzzle before him.

So the family motto should be _'Don't forget to floss'_?"

A giggle erupted from the lips of Roger's daughter.

"Did I just hear my Hermione giggle?" he teased. "My word, between that and the coloring, I'd think that you'd spent the past week learning to be…."

Hermione's lips pursed at the incomplete sentence.

"Learning to be a _normal_ twelve-year-old girl?" she asked.

Roger caught his breath, then quickly reached down to envelop his daughter in a hug.

"Oh, Hermione, it's not that…it's just that…you've always been so amazingly brilliant, and well-spoken, and mature…and, not that you didn't have friends, but…and as an only child…."

The bushy-haired witch's eyes lit up at that statement. "Yes, well…Morgan and Nia are like sisters to me, and it's been brilliant here, but…you know that I've always wanted a brother or sister, and Mum promised me that she would raise the issue with you this weekend."

Roger arched an eyebrow. "She did, did she?"

"Yes, Daddy…so did Mummy raise…it…last night?"

Emmy choked on a bit of tea upon hearing this question, and wondered whether Hermione realized her double entendre.

Roger was quite certain that his brilliant daughter had chosen her words with precision and full intent. Had Hermione actually been an adult, instead of just acting like one, he would have replied, _"Yes, several times, in fact." _But as it was his young daughter, and not an adult, he instead sighed, and changed the subject.

"So, when am I going to get to see my brilliant almost-teen-aged witch do some magic?"

"Oh, that's a great idea!" Hermione replied, as she rose from the table. "Nia, Morgan, let's take my daddy out to the magic shack!"

"Hold on, sweetie," intervened Emmy, as she placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Why don't you three go upstairs and get dressed, and then we'll have breakfast, and then you can give your Dad a full tour of the grounds?"

"Okay!" the bushy-haired witch chirped, as she pulled Harry's sisters away from the table.

Roger shook his head in disbelief as the three girls scampered out of the kitchen.

"Hard to tell that she had such a horrid start at school," he observed. "I can't thank you all enough, for taking her in this past week."

"We've been happy to have both Emily and her stay with us," Emmy replied. "And the girls have been just as happy to have someone new to play with."

Roger quietly nodded his head. From what he'd heard, he couldn't imagine why his little girl wanted to return to horrid Hogwarts, or how he could protect her if she did. But he certainly could ask Hermione to give up her magic, or for the Potters to take his daughter in for home-schooling…

Sensing the dentist's thoughts, Emmeline said, "You know, Hermione is a natural at magic, and so hard working…she's developed a lot of skills that will help protect her when she returns to school."

"Do you think she's able to do that now?"

Emmy shrugged. "Perhaps…it's up to the three of you, of course, but another week of Occlumency lessons would really put her in good stead."

"That's the mind protection magic?"

"That's right."

"And she can't be taught that at Hogwarts?"

Emmy shook her head. "The powers that be don't think there's a need for students to protect their thoughts. Of course, it's the powers that be that are best skilled at eavesdropping into other people's minds, so…"

"And there's no chance that this incident with the Troll will cause the Headmaster to be sacked?"

"I'm afraid not," said a male voice coming from over Roger's shoulder.

Hermione's father turned and acknowledged the Potter patriarch as he entered the kitchen.

"I'd second Em's recommendation about Hermione staying with us for another week," James stated. "There's an excellent chance that she'd have rock-solid Occlumency barriers by then if she did."

"But what of the physical attacks?" Roger asked. "Or the discriminatory treatment?"

James nodded as he accepted a cup of black coffee from Emmy's hand. "I've had a hand in instructing your daughter on shield spells, and some offensive spells. She's developed a nasty little stunner that should keep the pureblooded idiots at bay. And as for the discriminatory treatment…I'm entirely sympathetic. The Potters have a magical lineage that goes back centuries, but that doesn't stop the English purebloods from snubbing me and mine because of our Welsh heritage."

"So, she'll just have to accept the abusive treatment, and her second-class status?"

James nodded. "There is a small group of us within the magical community that are trying to make things better for all magical sentients, regardless of species or blood status. It's been slow going, but we are making incremental progress…and there's a real possibility that your magical grandchildren could grow up in a world where that kind of prejudice isn't tolerated."

"But in the meantime?"

"In the meantime…" James replied. "Well, that's where you and I need to sit down and discuss some family business."

"Family business?" Roger asked. "That sounds like a line from _The Godfather_."

James chuckled. "No, it's more Medieval than Mafia…how much do you know about the feudal system, and vassal relationships?"

Roger admitted that history had never been a strong subject for him in school, but that didn't keep him from having an open mind as the Potter Patriarch sketched out an idea that would bring his daughter directly under a Lord's protection.


	15. Chapter 15 Quidditch

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**A/N:** Not where I intended to end, but I want to get back into something approximating a regular posting schedule.

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 15: Quidditch**

No amount of soot could have completely subdued the garish crimson and gold attire worn by Harry's family as they stepped out of the floo connection within The Three Broomsticks. Not that they stood out, mind you…it was just a few hours before the first Quidditch match of the academic season, and the Potters were in good (if slightly inebriated) company.

"The Pride" was full party mode, as Gryffindor alumni and their families gathered to eat, drink, and network before the match. Each of the Houses had loosely organized groups of backers who took over Hogsmeade's two pubs on match day; the Slytherin alumni were presently filling up the Hogs Head just down the street…with an Auror detail stationed in between to keep the pre-match jinxes and curses to a minimum.

James waved at Sirius as his daughters pulled them towards Alicia Spinnet's younger sister and family. It was slow going, as Harry's parents stopped to shake hands and say hello to friends and coworkers. And there were plenty in both categories, and plenty to talk about…the Potter family had been attending these pre-match parties for more than a decade, and the placement of both Harry and The-Girl-Who-Lived on the House team had the pub buzzing with excitement.

Fifteen minutes later had James no closer to the booth where he had first spied Sirius…not that his friend hadn't made good use of that time.

"Why Snuffles, you old dog, you!" he muttered.

Lily leaned towards her grinning husband so that her voice could be heard above the crowd.

"What's he done now?"

James nodded towards the Black family scion, who was chatting up a rosy-cheeked, slightly disheveled barmaid.

"More like _whom_ he's done just now."

Lily rolled her eyes, and leaned to her left for a better view. "So they…"

"Unless he's been wanking under the table…I can almost feel the energy radiating out of his trousers, and that wasn't there a few minutes ago when we stepped out of the floo."

Lily rolled her eyes. "And he wonders why Emmy never gave him the time of day?"

"His loss was our gain."

The Muggleborn bisexual witch snorted, and popped a quick kiss on her husband's cheek.

"Smart use of pronouns there, Mister."

"Why thank you, sweetheart."

Noticing that the barmaid's attention had shifted to another table, Lily grabbed her husband by the arm and said, "C'mon…I want to have words with your best mate."

"Yes, Dear."

Sirius Black looked up as the married couple approached and quipped, "Well, it's nice of you two to lower yourselves and sit with the common people."

"Like you didn't make good use of your time, Padfoot," Lily growled, as they slipped into the booth.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Sirius asked with a wide grin.

"Oh…never mind…what's this about sitting with common people?"

"Well, now that Harry's on the squad…figured you be in the V.I.W. section with the other team parents."

James looked over his shoulder towards the area in question, where Molly Weasley was holding court as The Pride's self-appointed Alpha lioness. He winced a bit, and then turned back towards his best friend.

"This is close enough to Hurricane Molly for me, thank you very much."

Sirius nodded in understanding. "You'd think that with her son Charlie having graduated…"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Her twins are still on the team, aren't they?"

"True, but isn't Oliver Wood captain again?"

"And that stopped her from trying to rule the roost last year?" Lily shook her head and then added, "You know we've never gotten along, Padfoot… she considers me the world's worst witch because I have a career and leave my children in another witch's care."

"Yeah…it's ridiculous," agreed Sirius. "Not just on the face of it, but given the fact that Emmy lives with you, and is practically an honorary mum…."

"She'll be more than honor…"

James's sentence was cut short by a swift kick to the side of his leg.

"Ouch!"

"So where is Emmy, anyway?" asked Sirius, after given his best friend a curious look.

"Stayed home with our house guests," Lily replied smoothly. "Roger Granger came up from London for the weekend."

"Hermione is staying with you for another week, then?"

James nodded. "Still trying to convince the family that she won't have as bad a run of it when she returns to Hogwarts."

Sirius snorted. "So you're lying to them, then?"

"Of course not."

The Black scion rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm glad that she's staying on…she's been a big help in the Potions Shack, and we might just be enough time to complete the…"

Sirius's sentence completion was stifled by a swift kick to his leg.

"Ouch!"

"Shush!" Lily hissed.

"But we're amongst friends, aren't we?" Sirius asked, as his eyes drifted towards a barmaid as she approached with their drinks. He smiled at the waitress and asked, "You'll be my friend, at least…won't you…Amy?"

The blonde-haired server tilted her head slightly and asked, "I'm sorry, but I don't think that we met before?"

"A tremendous oversight on my part, no doubt."

"Then you know my name, by…."

The flirty wizard snorted, and waggled his eyebrows as he continued to appreciate the young woman's chest.

"By your nametag, of course," he replied.

"Of course that where your eyes are focused, you dog," Lily quipped.

The long-haired wizard dismissed Lily's sarcasm with an eye roll. "So why haven't I seen you here before, Amy?"

"Oh, I don't work here normally…just helping my friend out."

"Your friend…?"

"My friend Janet," the waitress replied, as she nodded towards the barmaid taking orders two booths down. "Whom you appear to have seen quite a lot of just a few minutes ago."

Sirius followed the pretty witch's gaze towards his latest conquest. His face fell.

"Erm…right, so…"

The barmaid giggled at her customer's discomfort, and then asked, "So do you see something that you like?"

Making a quick recovery, Sirius replied, "Absolutely."

"I think she means from the menu," Lily noted.

Sirius smiled even wider as he dove even deeper into his A-game with the pretty barmaid.

Lily sighed, and decided then and there that she'd rather spend the next hour worrying about her son's safety during the match, than wonder why their friend's cheesy pick-up lines were so successful.

That resolve was tested when Sirius excused himself after the meal and disappeared behind the bar to do a little "dishwashing" with _both_ Amy the barmaid _and_ her friend Janet.

**oo00OO00oo**

Harry and Daphne had marched into the Great Hall earlier that morning with homework-filled rucksacks slung over their uniform-covered shoulders. The two first-years had been told the night previous that they would be escorted from breakfast straight to the Quidditch stadium's locker rooms…despite the five hour gap in time between morning meal and match. And surely Oliver Wood wouldn't use all of that time for pre-match speeches, right?

The Gryffindor Captain did, in fact, use all of that time for match-related work, but spent a fair bit of it reviewing various different plays and formations with the three Chasers. This allowed the starting Seeker and his back-up to complete both Transfiguration and History of Magic essays, despite the distractions provided by the Weasley Twins, who were passing the time by playing a naughty variation of the game "hangman" with quill and parchment. The rules of this game were more akin to the Muggle game of strip poker than hangman; each round started with a theatrical stage rather than an empty gallows, and each time that a wrong guess was made an animated stick-figure woman removed a piece of her clothing.

Neither Harry nor Daphne was surprised by the fact that the first letters guessed for each puzzle were invariably "Z", "X" and "Q".

**oo00OO00oo**

No amount of forewarning could have completely prepared the Potter Family for the boisterous crowds as they walked out of street entrance of The Three Broomsticks.

"Looks like a World Cup campground," James marveled.

Lily took one look out onto the jam-packet street and immediately took hold of her youngest daughter's hand. "Morgan, stick close," she instructed. "Might have a long walk before there's room to launch our brooms."

"Why are there so many people here today, Mummy?" asked Nia. "Are they here to watch Harry play too?"

The red-haired witch sighed as she surveyed the crowd. "I don't know, honey."

"More like they want to see The-Girl-Who-Lived," muttered James.

"Now, James…"

"Telling me that I'm wrong, Dear?"

"No, but…"

"Oh, look…there's Potter!" somebody shouted from the other side of the street. "Lord Potter, if we could have a few minutes of your time?"

Harry's dad groaned when he spied the gaggle of news reporters who were pushing their way towards his family. He turned towards his wife and asked, "Think we could outrun them, Lils?"

"I doubt it, _Milord_," she replied with saccharine sweetness. "I'll take the girls on to the stadium while you play politics."

"Yes, Dear."

"And try not to say anything too outrageous, this time."

Sirius laughed, and slapped his friend's robe-covered back.

"Don't worry, Lily…I'll keep him out of trouble!"

Harry's Mum rolled her eyes, but sacrificed the chance for a retort in exchange for a few more feet distance between the reporters and her daughters.

James and Sirius and stepped away from the taven's doorway so that it wasn't blocked by the half-dozen reporters who had formed a confining semi-circular perimeter.

"Good afternoon, Ladies and Gents," said Harry's father. "Isn't it a great day for Quidditch?"

Ignoring the greeting, one of the more aggressive reporters dove in and asked, "Lord Potter, how does it feel to be the father of the youngest Hogwarts League Seeker in more than a century?"

"Naturally, like any parent, I'm proud and nervous and excited all at the same time."

"Who do you think will win today?"

"I have no idea…I'm just hoping for a cleanly played match and a minimum of injuries."

"What do you think of the side Gryffindor has put together?"

"I'm sure that the team will be a credit to their House."

"Think they'll have a chance to challenge for the Cup this year?"

James smiled. "Well, the Gryffindor side is easily the youngest, and least experienced side this year. And Slytherin has put together a string of victories, haven't they? Have to see just how many untimely detentions they'll be this go."

James allowed the knowing laughter to die down before continuing. "But even if Gryffindor's relative inexperience comes into play today…well, it's rather exciting to imagine what this same roster will be able to do two years down the road."

"Were you surprised that your son made the team as a Seeker?"

"Well, if Muggle genetics or parental heritage had any say, you might have marked Harry as a Chaser, but otherwise, no."

"So you've been training him from a young age, then?"

James shook his head. "Probably far less than some other fathers…it's not like we have a pitch set up in our backyard, and with Harry attending Muggle primary schools he's played just as much rugby or cricket as he's tossed around a quaffle."

"Do you regret allowing your children being negatively influenced that way by the Muggle world?"

Harry's dad scowled at the reporter who chimed in with that question. "Not in the least. Their experiences in the Muggle world can only help them as they grow up."

"And it certainly didn't hurt Harry's abilities on the Quidditch pitch," added Sirius.

"Some may say that it's more about influence and favoritism than ability," a pesky female reporter snarked. "How do you respond to the charge that your "special" relationship with members of an all-female Quidditch team has given your son an advantage today?"

"That's preposterous."

"What's preposterous, Milord? That your son will have an unfair edge by riding on a professional-level broomstick, or that you have been have had multiple affairs with members of the Holyrood Harpies?"

"Both," James spat back.

"But if the reports are right, he'll be flying today on a top-of-the-line model...can't buy a faster broom."

"Erm…is there a question in there?"

"What about the unfair advantage to the other teams?"

James shrugged. "There aren't any restrictions on the broomsticks used by students during school matches."

"Is that sporting, though?"

"Well, I have previously proposed to the Board of Governors that the school purchase new broomsticks for the every House Quidditch teams, and require their use during the matches."

"So each side would fly on the exact same makes and models of broomsticks?"

"Exactly. That way, the outcomes would depend more on skill and teamwork, rather than how rich your parents are."

"Sounds like a reasonable idea…why haven't you been able to get it adopted?"

Harry's father snorted. "There's been strong opposition from a few of the other Governors, who claim that the school can't afford to purchase twenty-eight brooms all in one go."

Sirius laughed as he added, "And I'm sure that it's only coincidence that the most vocal supporters of the status quo are the ones most likely to kit their children out with the best brooms possible?"

James had enough political savvy to let Sirius's remarks pass without comment, which allowed the surly "reporter" to get back on track with another charge.

"Milord, how do you respond to the charge that your son has been allowed to flaunt school rules?"

"What do you mean, exactly?"

"Well, First Year students aren't allowed to bring a broom to Hogwarts."

"And he didn't," James shot back testily.

"So it's just coincidence that your son is the Gryffindor starting seeker today, and will be riding on a world-class broom?"

"It was the decision of the student team captain to place my son on the team...just as it was his decision to place another First-Year student on the team after tryouts were held."

"Do you think The-Girl-Who-Lived has been shown favoritism then?"

"I have no reasons to believe, or even suspect that to be the case. Regardless of the rumors, I understand from my son's letters home that Miss Greengrass is a strong flyer, and a capable teammate."

"Would The-Girl-Who-Lived be starting today if she had a professional-grade broomstick?"

"I have no idea…although from what I gather, Miss Greengrass _has_ been practicing with a very fast stick that belongs to an older student in a different house. Which is another loophole in that rule about First Year students and broomsticks…they can't bring them, but there's nothing against them borrowing broomsticks from older students?"

"So you're in favor of allowing all First Year students at Hogwarts to bring broomsticks from home?"

Harry's father took in a deep breath and checked his wrist watch before answering.

"I'll answer this last question, then. The Headmaster and staff have the primary responsibility for ensuring the health and safety of their students. The ban on First-Year's bringing broomsticks is one way of limiting flying accidents, but if it were up to me, I would regulate flying the same way we do apparition."

"How'd that work?"

"Just as I said," James replied. "Require anyone piloting a broomstick to hold a license, which they could obtain only after they passed a Ministry-proctored examination that proves they are capable of flying safely."

"Isn't that the same as the need to pass through the Hogwarts Flying Class?"

"No…because not every witch or wizard attends Hogwarts, and because there are plenty of children flying broomsticks that are younger than eleven."

"So with this license, a four year old could fly a racing broom?"

"Not necessarily…you could issue permits that restrict a witch or wizard to flying certain models, or classes of broomsticks. Now, if you'll excuse us…"

"Lord Potter….where is your wife today?"

"She's flown ahead, if you must know."

"And why isn't your wife riding on your broomstick, Lord Potter?"

James stared incredulously at the reporter who had asked this question.

"Which publication are you with, Miss?"

"I'm Rita Skeeter, from Teen Witch Weekly."

"So you don't normally cover Quidditch, then?"

One of the sports reporters chuckled at the question.

"Nothing untoward there, Rita…Lord Potter always flies solo when he watches these matches."

"How come?"

Sirius grinned, and answered, "Because he can't sit still during a match…his wife Lily almost killed him the first time he did a sympathetic Wronski Feint with a baby buckled onto the back of the broom."

James nodded, and once again declared the question session complete as he led Sirius down the street towards Hogwarts. Once the crowd thinned sufficiently, they pulled miniaturized broomsticks from pockets, and restored them to full size. They then launched themselves towards the Quidditch stadium, where broomsticks not only got you to the game but provided the seating during it.

The issue of shared family broomsticks would have been moot had seating for the general public been available within the stadium, but Albus Dumbledore hadn't allowed anyone but students and staff within the stadium for more than fifty years. His position was that these games were strictly amateur events, and that selling tickets to the public and allowing them on campus would only place more pressure on the shoulders of the student athletes. These sentiments were undercut somewhat by his tolerance of broomstick flying parents and fans who hovered just outside the school boundaries during the matches…and led some to suspect that what the Headmaster really feared was the "interference" that might come with having parents on his school's grounds when classes were in session.

Regardless of motives, the allowance for off-campus fans to watch school Quidditch games had become a regulated institution in and of itself, with rules and guidelines enforced by flying squadrons of Aurors ready to stomp down upon excessive rowdiness within the ersatz stands. Their efforts were aided by an invisible barrier that kept the fans from flying onto the pitch and interfere with the game (a barrier installed after the infamous Gryffindor-Slytherin match of 1962, when a phalanx of drunken Slytherin alumni swooped in and blocked the Gryff seeker from catching the Snitch). A 100-foot buffer between the supporters of both sides was also enforced, with each lined up along the side of the Stadium closest to Hogsmeade.

"Well, that was lovely," snarked Sirius, while James and he pulled up on the Gryffindor side.

"Could have been worse," James admitted.

"So do you see Lily and the girls yet?"

Harry's father nodded and pointed towards the lowest of three ranks of hovering broomsticks.

"Looks like Morgan and Nia have gotten some help holding their sign. Which frees us up to …topside, then?"

"Sure."

The two wizards elevated towards the top row of Gryffindor supporters. They found (or more accurately, _created_) space on the edge of the enforced buffer zone, and set their brooms to hover.

Sirius asked, "Are you sure you won't get into trouble with Lily for heading off on your own?"

"No worries, I'll just blame it on your bad influence."

"And she'll believe you?"

"You're always good for something, mate," James quipped. "Besides, we already agreed to watch the game from different spots."

"How come?"

"So that Lily doesn't have to be embarrassed by my antics, and I don't have to place ear-muff charms on the girls."

"Does that mean we can join in when the _"Sod off, Salazar" _chant starts up?

"Now Sirius, what would people think if they saw those words escaping from the lips of a respected member of society like me?"

"Ahhhh, I see…so when will you want me to put a notice-me-not charm on your mouth?"

"Preferably after I've flagged down the Butterbeer Man," James admitted with a smirk. "Unless you want to buy the first couple of rounds?"

"Oh, no…that's fine by me," Sirius quickly replied. "Hey look…there's Frank and Alice."

James leaned forward and waved as his on-duty friends pulled up wearing their Auror robes.

"How's it going you two?"

"Not too bad, Boss," Frank replied. "Been able to keep the buffer clear so far."

"Hey, none of that Boss business today," James whined. He held up his cup of butterbeer and added, "I'm off-duty."

"Well don't get too-well lubricated, James," Alice replied. "Might need your help later on if things go pear-shaped."

The Auror Captain nodded as he looked over at the opposing side's rowdy fans.

**oo00OO00oo**

Oliver Wood paced back in forth of his team and gave the kind of dramatic (and mockable) pre-game speech that wouldn't change by a word were there a million different alternative universes. Harry Potter stared down at his boots during the oration, and passed the broomstick propped in between his knees from one hand to the other. The Gryffindor Captain assumed that this was because his First-Year Seeker was suffering from pre-match jitters…but in reality it was the only way Harry could hide the grin placed on his face by Fred and George's whispered running commentary.

Although, if asked the black-haired wizard would admit to a bit of nervousness. Harry had never played against opponents who were five or six years older than he was, nor played his father's favorite sport, for his father's old House team…while his father and the rest of his family were watching. On the other hand, this wasn't his first school team, or first high-profile position; back in Wales he'd been his primary school's star on the rugby and football teams, and its best bowler on the cricket pitch.

The limited extent of the Potter scion's nervousness was proven when his eyes focused on the autographs of Holyrood Harpies that ran down the length of his broomstick handle. The demi-demon immediately began to match up each signature with a face…and the odd occasions when they unknowingly fed his wild side.

Harry's reminiscing was interrupted when a brown-skin hand slipped down the length of the handle and blocked his view. Harry looked up, and blushed when he realized that his captain's speech had ended, and that his teammates were making final checks on their gear. Angelina Johnson, the witch who had grabbed his stick, noticed this blush and mistakenly thought it had something to do with her suggestive grip. So she smiled, and tried to intensify the reaction by running her hand up and down the handle.

"What…what are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Pre-game ritual," Angelina replied. "Right before every match, I stroke the seeker's stick for good luck."

"Which one?"

The Chaser, who had been standing in front of Harry, leaned down and licked her lips. Whatever flirty and/or smutty retort she was throwing back his way was interrupted by a second pair of hands that forced their way onto the handle.

"Hey budge over, Luv," chirped Alicia. "I need to do some good luck rubbing too."

"Me too!" Katie chimed in, as she budged in from the other side and added her hand hold.

Harry laughed, and pinned the broomstick in between his thighs so that it better approximated an super-sized appendage. He then leaned back and smiled.

"No pushing, no shoving…plenty of room for everyone to grab hold…"

"You wish!" snorted Fred.

"In your dreams!" added George.

"Better my dreams than yours, you wankers!" Harry quipped.

"Hey there…enough of that!" growled Oliver. "Form up ranks…time to head out to the pitch."

"Oh well…guess there's only enough time to start a new pre-match ritual," Katie decided.

"What's that?"

The Second-Year smiled, and darted forward to plant a firm kiss on Harry's lips.

"It's called _'Snog the Seeker'_," she declared with a laugh.

Angelina and Alicia decided that this was an excellent suggestion, and quickly followed suit. Harry and to push away the Weasley Twins, whom he hoped were only joking about their intentions to join in. He then spied Daphne Greengrass, who had been watching the scene play out from a distance. A roguish smile and slight tilt of the head caused The-Girl-Who-Lived to look away and blush. Harry didn't press the issue as he shouldered his broom and stood next to her in line.

Members of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw teams provided one last minder escort as the Gryffindor eight walked out of the locker rooms with brooms on their shoulders and determined looks on their faces. Nobody was all that surprised that it was the Hufflepuff seeker who formed up alongside Daphne, and walked with her and Harry as they navigated the short distance from locker room to pitch.

"Good luck, Harry," said Cedric.

"Thanks," the black-haired wizard replied. "And thanks for offering to sit with Daphne on our bench during the match."

"Not a problem," the Hufflepuff replied brightly. "Wouldn't want to see anyone on their own out there, the way Slytherin plays."

Harry nodded. "Which is exactly why I doubt it will take any time at all before she'll be needed as an injury replacement."

Daphne frowned. "You just keep yourself safe, Mister," she insistently demanded.

Cedric raised an eyebrow at The-Girl-Who-Lived's words, in the same way that Harry thought he might express concern if one of his sisters had said those words to some another boy. So why would the Hufflepuff be acting like a protective big-brother?

Harry's head banging against the strength of a _Fidelius_ charm's magic was interrupted by a kiss on his cheek…which then caused both of Cedric's eyebrows to reach his hairline. The Gryffindor seeker turned towards Daphne and sheepishly asked, "Thanks?"

Daphne giggled. "Hey, it's a team tradition, right?"

The black-haired wizard smiled. "Guess that I'll have to remember that when I'm benched for poor play and you become our seeker."

"Like that will happen," Daphne muttered.

"Right then, Gryffindors….mount up!" Ollie shouted.

Daphne joined the starting seven as they walked out into the tunnel, climbed aboard their brooms, and flew two-by-two down the chute.

**oo00OO00oo**

Sirius Black had a cup in one hand and a cauldron cake in the other when the Gryffindor burst out of the tunnel. He used a sticking charm to fix the bottom of his butterbeer cup to the top of his stick so that he could applaud, but bounced so much when he clapped that most of the liquid splashed out.

"Kick some snakey arse, Pup!" he yelled, as the team did a fly-by.

"Sirius," whined James. "This is supposed to be a children's sporting competition."

"Yeah right…can you hear what their backers are yelling?"

"Just try to tone it down, please?"

Sirius shook his head dismissively. "Yes, mummie…did you see how well Harry is handling that stick?"

"Yeah, whole team looks good."

"But that Nimbus, Prongs…still can't believe how lucky he was…although if I were Harry's age, I'd rather it be the other way around, and wish that it were the Harpies riding on my broomstick."

"If you were eleven, Padfoot?" asked James. "Does that mean you've given up on your childhood fantasies?"

"Never," Sirius grinned. "Shagging the starting seven in the Harpies' showers will always be on the top of my bucket list."

James snorted.

"What…you mean that you wouldn't want to do something like that before you die?"

"I'm married, mate."

"So?"

"I'm married to Lily."

"Erm, right…good point."

James nodded, pleased that his statements of simple fact allowed him to avoid answering the question. He really didn't like deceiving his best friend any more than he had to…and wasn't prepared to admit that _"Lily and I invite Gwenog's team into our bedroom"_ was not only on his personal bucket list, but something that had already been crossed off.

**oo00OO00oo**

Harry found it easy to spot his family as they flew warm-up laps around the perimeter of the pitch…one need only look for a extroverted Godfather, or a magically-animated and slightly-modified Welsh flag whose red dragon held a green snake in its front paws. Harry smiled, and when he spied Wood's back turned, waved to his Mum and sisters.

The Gryffindor team retreated to its half of the pitch and began more intense warm-ups. Harry focused his thoughts on his Captain's instructions, and pre-match analysis. Wood had scouted out the Slytherin side…not that there was ever much variation in their standard approach to the game.

It was always "Play Dirty and Win Ugly."

Unfortunately, as soon as the snitch was released and the match begun, it took no time at all for Gryffindor's seeker to discover that the Slytherins had added a new page to their playbook. And that there were only two words on that playbook's page:

"Kill Potter."

The two Slytherin Beaters totally ignored the Gryffindor chaser line from the start, and sent all of their bludger hits towards Harry. The Slytherin Seeker, when he wasn't himself avoiding those bludgers, buzzed the first-year and tried to distract by peppering him with lewd comments about shagging mudbloods.

Harry was smart enough to realize the tactics for what they were, and had a thick enough skin to ignore the foul-mouthed abuse. But the bludger attacks were something much harder to ignore, and he found it very difficult to spend any amount of time searching for the snitch. Of course the Slytherin Seeker wasn't looking either, and the Beaters' focus on him forced Fred and George to do the same. As a result, both sets of Chasers were left alone, and it quickly became a contest between each line and the opposing Keeper. Given the Wood's skills as the Gryffindor keeper and the deft passing of his Chasers, it only took twenty minutes for the Lions to build up a 130 point lead.

Oliver Wood was relatively happy with how the game was being played, so long as Harry could stay aboard his broomstick…at the rate that they were scoring, there would soon be an insurmountable lead even if their Seeker were to go to ground and Slytherin caught the snitch. But the other captain knew this as well, so the green and silver's strategy shifted…from "Kill Potter," to "Kill any of the chasers before the lead got to 16o."

Unfortunately, this change in approach quickly bore fruit and drew blood when Katie Bell was illegally interfered with, then struck by a bludger that fractured her leg. A buzz of excitement grew both within the stadium and outside it when play was stopped…it was clear to everyone that Katie was out of the game, and the Girl-Who-Lived was the only available reserve.

Few bothered to watch an enraged Angelina Johnson make the penalty shot, and the round of applause that Katie received as Madame Pomfrey levitated her off of the pitch was polite, but distracted. Everyone's eyes were on Daphne, as she mounted her broom and began to dart up and down the sidelines on her broom in a hasty warm-up.

The enthusiastic applause that came when Lee Jordan announced the replacement grew even louder when Daphne flew right past the two remaining Chasers and climbed up to where Harry and the other Seeker were hovering.

"Told you it wouldn't be long," Harry stated, as The-Girl-Who-Lived came up alongside him. He then surprised Daphne and delighted the crowd when he leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"My turn to snog the seeker now, eh?" he asked.

Daphne rolled her eyes as Harry floated down to join the chaser line (after threatening the Slytherin Seeker with grievous bodily harm should he continue the same style of play). Madame Hootch then blew her whistle and put the quaffle back into play.

Harry's move to the Chaser Line allowed the Slytherin team to combine their previous two strategies, and play "Kill Potter (the Chaser)." Daphne was ignored, and allowed to search for the snitch unimpeded as the Slytherin Seeker continued to focus on driving Harry to distraction.

Allowed to search, that is, until an outside force intervened.

Harry had just passed the Quaffle to Alicia Spinnet and was fending off yet another bludger attack when he heard cries coming from the crowd, and spied a few fingers pointing above his head. He looked up, and cursed in Welsh…Daphne's broomstick was jerking violently and climbing in altitude, and she was struggling to stay aboard.

Up in the ranks just beyond the Quidditch stadium, James Potter's curse was just as emphatic when he realized that the Gryffindor Seeker was in trouble. He tossed his half-filled cup of butterbeer and (ignoring the complaints from beneath him) took hold of his broomstick with both hands.

"Sirius…fly in front of the Gryffindor ranks…see if anybody is jinxing that broom."

"But surely you don't think that a Gryff backer would…"

"Just do it, damnit! Might be anyone that's slipped in with the lot."

"Aye, Captain!"

James barely heard his friend's response as he pulled a flashing-red light out of his pocket, attached it to the front tip of his broomstick handle, then veered into the buffer zone between the two groups of fans.

He was saw that Frank and Alice Longbottom had already taken the initiative and were cruising past the lower two ranks of Slytherin backers. This left the top row of parked broomsticks, and James flew down its length in just a few seconds. He swore again when he reached the end…the green and silver-clad arses had been jeering and laughing at The-Girl-Who-Lived's equipment problem, but nobody had been actively jinxing her. James turned back towards the stadiumin time to see his son streaking up towards his still-struggling teammate.

Quick shout-outs from the Longbottoms confirmed that they hadn't found anyone causing the problem. This led James to conclude that there might be an attacker within the Stadium….most likely from the Slytherin student section, which had its back to the rows of broomsticks, and was hidden from view by the near wall of the Stadium.

After sending out a message spell to his subordinates, and instructing them to follow his lead, Harry's father pointed his wand towards the airspace in between the Stadium and the end of his broomstick.

"_Hogwarts Ward Overide, Auror Authorization Code Potter…James…Alpha…Three…Omicron!"_

The air twenty feet in front of him shimmered blue in response, giving the Auror Captain the confidence he needed to accelerate forward and into the stadium without fear of bouncing up against the wards.

**oo00OO00oo**

Harry had pointed his Nimbus 2000 towards Daphne just as soon as he realized that she was in trouble. He wasn't the only one to do so, but his was the fastest broom…which made Harry the closest to his teammate when her fingers slipped and she began to fall from a height of twelve hundred feet above the pitch. The demi-demon immediately changed course and dove in pursuit. But two seconds later, he was pushed off this path by a bludger that crashed into his shoulder and almost knocked him off of his broom.

Too focused to worry about the pain, or why someone would try to sabotage a rescue attempt, Harry pulled his stick back on track, and increased speed. This focus, and the unspoken confidence he had in his broom-riding, were sufficient to keep the demon within from breaking out and offering a helping tentacle (an event that both of his horrified parents were expecting as he rode to the rescue).

Daphne was falling towards what she thought was certain death. But Ollie, being Ollie, had trained the team for just this type of emergency, to the point where The-Girl-Who-Lived automatically assumed the "pancake position"… face first, arms and legs spread out wide, and no flailing about. This maximized the amount of wind resistance provided by her robes and marginally slowed her rate of descent. But more importantly, the position made it far easier for a teammate to duck under and make an airborne rescue. And Harry, painful shoulder and all, was lined up for that attempt.

But then a second bit of interference occurred...somebody on the ground had the bright idea of casting a spell that greatly retarded Daphne's rate of descent. It wasn't a bad idea…made it far more likely that The-Girl-Who-Lived would only be critically injured, rather than killed outright. But Harry's intercept path hadn't accounted for this spell, so he undershot her by thirty-feet.

Without thinking Harry powered his broomstick into a full loop and calculated a new intercept. By now Daphne was screaming at the top of her lungs…so much that he could have marked her by sound, rather than sight. Then she suddenly stopped screaming, which worried Harry enough to nudge his broom that much faster.

Harry's new path was so steep that it became the same Wronski Feint that Daphne had taught Harry…and that tutelage paid off he approached her from the rear and ducked underneath her spread legs. As soon as the First-Year witch spotted her teammate below her she clamped her arms around his shoulders and dropped down onto the broom. As soon as Harry felt this weight behind his saddle he pulled out of the dive, just grazing the grass with his boots before he pulled his broom into a hover.

"I've got you! I've got you!" Harry kept yelling, until he came to full stop, and he switched to "Are you okay? Are you okay?"

When Daphne didn't respond, Harry feared the worst…until he turned around and realized that the response had been impeded by the golden snitch that his passenger was pulling out of her mouth. Once her airway was cleared of obstructions Daphne began to loudly sob, and she pulled Harry into a crushing (and painful) hug.

He didn't complain one bit.

**oo00OO00oo**

James's plan to cruise past the Slytherin section of the stands had been immediately abandoned once Daphne fell off of her jinxed broom. He set out on his own intercept path towards the pitch, so that he could cast a cushioning charm at the probable point of impact. The Auror Captain had just finished the necessary wand movements when his son made a mid-air rescue and pulled up to a full stop. James then heard a very familiar voice call out his son's name. He turned, and spotted his flying towards their son at top speed, with their daughters still strapped in behind.

Wondering (briefly) how Lily had gotten past the Hogwarts Wards, James decided that she was fully capable of playing the role of distraught parent, and snapped his thoughts back towards the potential crime scene. He looked up into the stands, and cursed…the spectators were all emptying out, with the Slytherin students leaving the scene as quickly as they could.

He tried to call out for everyone to remain where they were, but his _Sonorus_-aided voice was drowned out by the cheers of "Well Done, Gryffindor!"

Resigned to the potential need to interview witnesses and check wand signatures after-the-fact, James used his message spell to direct his team. Frank Longbottom was asked to return to the MLE and bring back a full team of investigators, his wife Alice was dispatched to interview Professor McGonagall and other "friendly" staff members, and Sirius was tasked with tracking down the location of Daphne Greengrass's broom. This left James with the job of talking with the victim and her rescuer.

He just had to get to Harry and Daphne…which proved problematic given the thick crowd of celebrating students that surrounded them. And then Dumbledore intervened, and tried to assure James that the Hogwarts Staff were fully prepared and capable of investigating the cause of the accident themselves.

That proposal flew about as well as a lead _Leviosa_, especially once Alice Longbottom flew to James's side with some news and a pair of omnioculars.

"Neville and Susan flagged me down from the Hufflepuff section," she explained. "While everyone else was watching Daphne fall off her broomstick, they were scanning the stands, looking for suspects."

"Really?" James asked. "Well, guess the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree. Did they see anything?"

The female Auror shot a nasty look towards Dumbledore as she nodded her head, and handed her team leader the magical recording device.

"You'll have to rewind the images."

James arched an eyebrow, then glanced towards where his son was being attended to by both Poppy and Lily.

"He's in good hands, Boss," Alice declared. "And you only need to watch about 15 seconds of video."

The Auror Captain snorted at the Muggle term, then put the omnioculars up to his eyes.

He didn't wait to finish his review before he snarled out, "That greasy….Dumbledore, I want to speak to Snape...and your DADA professor as well...now!"

The Headmaster frowned, then looked up towards the faculty box.

"They have both apparently left, Auror Captain."

Pulling the omnioculars away from his face, James barked, "Well find them, then."

Albus sighed.

"If you insist…shall we meet in my office then, in, say…ten minutes time?"

When Harry's dad nodded, the Headmaster summoned two House Elves, and ask them to deliver messages.

"Lord Potter…may I ask that you bring that recording device with you, so that we could all have the opportunity to review what you've just seen?"

James stared at Dumbledore with disbelief, then shook his head as he gave the glasses back to Alice Longbottom.

"Get these back to the MLE, duplicate, distribute, then get them into secured storage," he ordered.

"But…" Albus stammered.

"Sorry, Headmaster Dumbledore," James replied with a thin grin. "Standard chain-of-custody procedures, evidence preservation, and all that…not that I have any reason to believe that that somebody might tamper with either the evidence…or with my memory…during the meeting…"

"Surely you are accusing…."

"Of course not, Headmaster," James replied brightly. "Just following Ministry regulations."

Albus closed his eyes for a few moments, then let out a deep breath as he hastily revised plans for achieving his version of "The Greater Good".


	16. Chapter 16 A Game Ended Early

**La Blue Wizard  
**a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.

**oo00OO00oo**

**Chapter 16: A Game Ended Early**

A small-scale battle broke out between broomstick-flying Gryffindor and Slytherin supporters just a few moments after James Potter made his sternly worded demands of the Headmaster. The hexes and jinxes being tossed back and forth necessarily held the Auror Captain's attention (and kept all of the available MLE staff occupied for a good bit of time).

Whether the fighting had been cleverly instigated by the Hogwarts Headmaster in order to divert attention away from his staff was an open question…not that the lack of evidence kept James from reaching his own conclusions. Some good did come of the situation, though…James and Poppy used it to convince Lily that they could care for Harry, and that she should return home with Nia and Morgan. This allowed Harry to escape with only a small bit of embarrassment, generated by a mum that kept rubbing his head and lower back during her hugs, and a seven-year old sister who insisted on asking Daphne if she was now her brother's girlfriend.

James escorted the Hogwarts Matron and her two charges to the front doors of the castle, then returned to the stadium to gather reinforcements for his meeting with the Headmaster. He wanted to take a good-sized force with him, in case Quirrell (and hopefully Snape) resisted arrest. But with all that was happening, the only person available that he trusted enough to watch his back was Sirius. There was a risk in going into a dangerous situation short some wands, but an even greater risk in James's mind if they waited…he knew that he'd shaken up Dumbledore, and didn't want to allow the old wizard time to recover his balance. And both James and Sirius were Gryffindor's right?

So it was just the two of them that rode the climbing staircase that led to the Headmaster's Office. But it was only Dumbledore and Snape who were waiting for them, so at least the Aurors weren't outnumbered.

It took no time at all for the ensuing conversation to become heated.

"So let me make sure I'm hearing you correctly, Snape," James fumed. "You were in the stands, sitting right next to Quirrell. You knew that he was attempting to murder Miss Greengrass by hexing her broom. You knew as well that this required Quirrell to maintain constant eye contact with his target. You could have stunned him, or confounded him….hell, a simple slap in the face would have done the trick. But no, instead…you decide to try to counteract the hex."

"Try to counteract…and fail," added Sirius.

Snape glared at the two Aurors.

"I am a Potions Master…not a law enforcement officer."

"You are also a professor of this school, and have a primary responsibility for ensuring the safety and welfare of your students."

"That is exactly what I was doing, you idiot!"

Dumbledore tried to regain control of the conversation. "Gentleman, please! Auror Captain Potter, I asked Professor Snape to sit next to Professor Quirrell today, just in case of this eventuality."

"You knew that Quirrell was going to attack the girl?"

"Not as such, or I would have certainly notified the MLE. It was a precautionary measure…as we discussed at great length last week after the troll incident, there have been certain quirks in Professor Quirrell's behavior since he returned from his sabbatical."

"Lacking any direct evidence of wrongdoing, and not knowing the reasons for these behavior changes, I instructed my staff to avoid any direct confrontations with Professor Quirrell."

"No lack of evidence of wrongdoing now, though, eh Headmaster?"

"Gentlemen, we still don't know the reasons for this behavior."

"Which is precisely why we need to speak with him straight away," James concluded. "So where is he?"

Dumbledore pursed his lips, not at all liking the Auror's tone of voice. Reluctantly, he called out a house-elf's name. When the diminutive creature appeared, he promptly informed the Headmaster that the defense professor, whom he been tasked with tracking, was presently in a third-floor hallway.

"Right, we'll be off, then," James declared.

The Headmaster glanced towards his Potions Professor.

"Severus, why don't you assist these Aurors in their search?"

"No bloody way," snarled Sirius. "He's done enough damage already today."

"But I must insist…."

"And I must ignore your request," James retorted. "Rest assured there will be a full inquiry into both of your actions. In the meantime, I suggest you focus less on your schemes, and more on the safe evacuation of students and staff."

Dumbledore engaged in a brief stare down with the Auror before nodding his assent.

"Are you certain that you will not need assistance?" he asked.

"I'll send a message if we need your help, Headmaster," James stated curtly, as he strode out the office with Sirius close behind.

The two who remained in the room stared at the door for a moment, before Snape asked, "So what happens when Quirrell confirms their suspicions and nails down their indictments?"

"Ah…you are jumping a few steps ahead of pace, Severus," the Headmaster intoned sagely. "I sincerely doubt that Professor Quirrell and his….companion…will surrender willingly, or provide any incriminating testimony."

Snape pursed his thin lips. "So there will be a duel to the death…and if Potter and Black win?"

"Then I will recommend to their superiors that they be commended for going above and beyond the call of duty."

"And if they lose?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "Then the awards will be given posthumously."

The wizened wizard reached for a lemon drop, and casually added, "I trust that, should the latter be the case, you will be able to wait until _after_ their funerals before you dance on their graves?"

The edges of the Potions Master's lips curled up into a thin grin. "As if you wouldn't be in search of a dance partner, after all of Potter's interference on the Board, or within the Wizengamot?"

The Headmaster snorted, and accepted the charge gracefully.

"We would do well to follow the Auror Captain's instructions," he said. "Although, with all of the…disturbances…outside the castle, perhaps keeping the students to their dormitories would be more prudent?"

"You're not going to…"

"No, but you are," replied the Headmaster. "I leave it to you to oversee the evacuation."

"While you…?"

"While I give Potter and Black a sufficient head start."

**oo00OO00oo**

James and Sirius didn't encounter anything or anyone until they reached the stairs leading up to the third floor, where Peeves was trying to set up a prank involving loosened carpet.

"Who's there?" the poltergeist called out.

"Two Marauders on a mission," James barked.

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock.

"Nasty-wasty Marauders…back again to torture Old Peeves and trap him inside of a box again?"

"If you don't get out of our way we will," Sirius declared.

"Ought to call Filch, I should, if the Marauders are sneaking around the castle again."

Sirius snorted, and began to sing off-key.

"_When a poltergeist…ain't playing nice….who ya goin' to call?"_

Peeves squealed in fear, and shot out away from the two wizards like a balloon rapidly losing its air. This allowed James and Sirius to enter the forbidden (but opened) doorway.

Where they came face-to-face-to-face with a sleeping three-headed beast.

"Fluffy?" James whispered to himself.

"This monster has a name?" Sirius asked, pointing his wand towards the snoring cerebus.

Harry's father nodded. "One of Hagrid's pets…music puts him to sleep…so start singing so that he doesn't wake while we pass by!"

"Any requests?"

"No, you idiot…anything will do!"

"Erm…right…_Ooooohhh…..Macho, Macho Man….I want to be a Macho Man…_"

"The Village People?" James hissed.

"_Said it didn't mat-ter, mat-ter, man,"_ Sirius softly sang back. _"I want to be a macho….body, body…want to feel…want to feel your body, body…want to touch, want to touch your body, body…."_

"Thought it was 'want to feel _my_ body'?"

"Hey, I love you James, but…not like that."

Harry's father ignored the bad attempt at humor and motioned towards a hatch within the middle of the floor. As he approached the opening, he sniffed, and then snorted out some air.

"Hey, Sirius…smells like somebody is smoking hash down there."

"Really?" the Black scion hissed. He stepped forward, breathed in, and smiled.

"Wow…it just seems like yesterday that I was rolling my own…"

"Probably because it could have well been yesterday, you wanker," James snarked. He then leaned forward and took a cautious glance down the opened hatch. The sight of the charred remains of what had been a mass of dense foliage caused him to chuckle.

"You're out of luck, boyo," he whispered. "Unless you can catch a high off of Devil's Snare."

A break in the cadence of the cerebus's snores kept his best friend from vocalizing a witty retort, and the two Aurors quickly dropped down through the hatch.

"Our boy didn't mess around with this stuff, did he?" Sirius asked.

James shook his head, and motioned towards an opened doorway which led to a high-ceiling room filled with flying keys.

"What in Merlin's name is this?" asked Sirius.

"A minor distraction, apparently," surmised James, nodding towards an opened door on the opposite side of the room.

"I'm surprised that these traps didn't reset themselves after Quirrell passed through."

James swatted at a flying key that was buzzing about his head. "What would be the point in that? It would just slow down those who followed behind to either capture or rescue the fool that decided to run this gauntlet."

The armed challenge of life-sized chess pieces tested James's hypothesis.

"What in Merlin's name?"

"McGonagall's work, from the looks of it," the Auror Captain observed. "We're probably supposed to play our way across the board."

"So why does this test look untouched, then?" asked Sirius.

"Maybe Quirrell found a way around it…or over it…if he needed a broom to capture the right key in that last room…"

Sirius nodded, and pulled a shrunken broomstick out of one of his pockets. His friend followed suit, and a few moments later they found themselves flying over the reach of a very unhappy black queen.

The next test of flames, potions, and a riddle appeared to be just as pristine as the chessboard, leading James to wonder out loud if they'd somehow missed their target along the way. Sirius replied by casting a Flame-Freezing Charm upon himself. James smiled and did the same.

"When did you get so smart, partner?"

"Hey, I've always been the smart one…you just never got past admiring my rugged handsomeness."

"Yeah, right," James retorted, as he passed through the wall of flame and pushed into the next room, where the only challenge they faced was stepping over an unconscious Mountain Troll without nudging him awake.

The sound of voices coming from the opened doorway on the other side of the Troll clued the two Aurors in on the fact that they'd finally caught up with their target. They stepped to either side of the opening, where James cautiously extended a hand mirror out to get a glimpse inside. This provided a reflected view of a bare-headed DADA professor standing with his back to a free-standing full-length mirror, engaged in a dialogue with himself.

"_There must be a way..."_ hissed a disembodied voice. _"I know Albus has hidden the Stone within this mirror, but how to retrieve it?"_

"Perhaps a blasting spell, Master?"

"_Bah…so destructive…so unimaginative…I'd have you do it, though, if I didn't fear that the Stone would be damaged…wait…someone is there!"_

Harry's father immediately pulled the mirror back, and yelled, "You're under arrest Quirrell. Throw you wand down and place your hands behind your head!"

The response to this request came in the form of a blasting spell aimed at the stone wall above the opened threshold. Sirius cast a hastily-constructed shield over their heads while James banished some of the debris back through the doorway, and the fight was on.

Had this been a "normal" two-on-one wand fight, James and Sirius would have made quick work of Quirrell. But it was more like two versus one-and-a-half…the DADA professor standing with his back to the Mirror of Erised, so that Voldemort could use its reflection to direct their side of the duel from his perch on the back of Quirrell's head. The months that the pseudo-stutterer had spent possessed by the Dark Lord, and the strength gained by a very recent unicorn feeding had turned the Professor into a very formidable opponent.

Within seconds, that formidable opponent had banished Sirius against a stone wall, rendering him unconscious. James was then caught by a disarming spell that was snuck in between the Unforgivables that he was dodging.

Quirrell quickly bound Harry's father, then faced away from his captive so that his master could do the typical evil-villain expository gloat…a gloat that made no attempt to conceal the spirit's identity as a disembodied Dark Lord.

James might have gained some valuable insights into Voldemort's phantasmal psyche, had the demon within him not decided to cut the speech short with an eruption of tentacles and shredded robes.

What passed for eyes on the back of Quirrell's head went wide, and Voldemort shouted for his host to turn around and start hurling killing curses. The shout, however, only provided a convenient target…as two tentacles shot out to hold the DADA professor's arms in place, a third appendage made straight for the parasite's opened mouth and plugged it full.

There was a sick squishing noise…a sound barely discernible over Quirrell's screams…while demon-James's fourth tentacle snaked around his target's neck and yanked backwards. The tip of the third tentacle popped out the front of the dead man's head (right behind his left eyeball), and the body collapsed.

The naked demi-demon retracted his tentacle from his victim's head, paying no mind to either the splattering of brain matter that erupted when the tip cleared the gaping hole, nor the phantasmal spirit that followed close behind.

Expressions of surprise…and fear…and understanding…passed across the spirit's "face" as it floated in front of his multi-limbed executioner. There was a moment's pause, as the phantasm considered a possession attempt. But James was slowly retrieving his wand with one of his tentacles, and the desire to hurt that which had just hurt him was too strong. So it roared, and attempted some deadly symmetry as it dove straight through James's head.

The demi-demon didn't blink a blood-shot eye…the pass did no physical harm, and he was too busy trying to regain control of his own body to even notice.

Defeated…but not destroyed…the spirit of Lord Voldemort gave a ghostly scowl, and then escaped through a hewn rock wall.

It took a few moments for the rush of James's transformation and the heat of battle to subside, and for the wizard part of his brain to convince the demon part that: a) the battle had ended, and b) there weren't any shagging targets nearby. Once the more rational side of the Auror Captain's psyche seized control, it sent one tentacle out to Sirius, and three more out in search for his inhaler.

Discovering that the fully-charged inhaler had been smashed to pieces during the battle would have been more of a disappointment had there not been a surge of orgasmic energy transferred into the demi-demon when James's tentacle found a pulse on Sirius's neck.

The product of Sirius's pre-Match shags within The Three Broomsticks did much to calm the demon within, to the point where he could rationally consider just how Sirius and he had managed to avoid skin-to-skin contact after all that they'd been through.

Unfortunately, the energy transfer wasn't enough to completely put the demon in its place. James was stuck in his "a little horny" form (that often made for the best sex)…rational, excited but not enraged, and with a full complement of horns and tentacles.

It was at this point that Sirius moaned and regained a painful consciousness.

"Who whacked me with a bludger bat?" he whined, as he slowly reached for the back of his head. When the back of his hand scraped alongside tentacle flesh, he jumped away from the point of contact.

"What the fu…..James? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me."

"What the hell happened? Why are you naked….and when did your dick get so huge? And…when did you grow extra arms and horns, and your skin turn blue?"

Harry's father chuckled. "Leave it to you, my friend, to make those observations in that order."

"But….what…what the hell are you?"

"Something that I've always been, Sirius," James replied with a sigh. "I was born this way."

"And…but….I've never seen you looking like this…"

"No, you just don't remember seeing me this way."

"So you always are like this?"

"No, just when the adrenaline…or the testosterone…kicks in."

Sirius tried to process James's comments as he cautiously shifted his gaze away from his six-armed naked friend towards the corpse that lay in between them.

"Sweet Merlin!" he exclaimed. "That's Quirrell?"

"Yes it is…or at least was."

"But it was…the possession?"

"It was Voldemort, and it got away, unfortunately."

"Well you gave him a big enough hole to escape through," Sirius snorted. He then turned back to James and asked, "So if this has happened before, but I don't remem…oh, bloody hell…you memory charmed me!"

"Erm, yeah, sorry mate," said James. "But you've insisted I do it…every time."

"Really?" Sirius asked. "And why the hell would I do that?"

"Because you…oh, right…why don't you see for yourself?"

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"I haven't erased all those memories," explained James. "You and I worked out a way to securely hide them within that thick skull of yours. You can get them back…just need to hold your wand to your temple and say the magic password."

"What's that?"

"Something that you came up with….a phrase that you'd never say accidentally."

The Black scion rolled his eyes (then regretted the action, since it made his head hurt all the more).

"Right, then…what's the password?"

James smiled, and replied, "Fluffy-Bunny-Sevvy-Poo."

Harry's godfather resisted the urge to repeat the painful eye roll as he put his wand tip to his temple and repeated the phrase.

There was a pause, as an unfettered flash of memories passed through Sirius's frontal lobes.

And then he swore.

"Un-fucking-believable!" he exclaimed. "You and Lily…and Emmy?" he shouted. "You, Lily, Emmy and Alice….and Meghan…and Rosmerta…all at the same time?"

"Erm, yeah, well….you should have an explanation floating around in there someplace."

"Yeah, like I'd find it hidden within all of the shagging….Bloody Hell…so that's why you've memory charmed me…couldn't live knowing that you've outshagged me all these years…or that your willie makes mine look like a arse pimple…or that I've had to help you change back by…..oh Hell! You need me to wank right now, don't you?"

"Erm….sorry, mate, but yeah…inhaler busted, and I've already nabbed your residual shagasms."

Sirius glanced up at the horns that still protruded from his friend's mess of black hair and shook his head.

"Why don't I just retrieve Lily?"

James shook his head. "Doubt there's time…Dumbledore's probably already on the way, hoping to pick up the pieces and claim the glory with some concocted story."

"So I really have to…"

"Yes, you do," James replied firmly. "You know I need to keep this condition of mine a secret…it's not just about me…it's my entire family! So drop your trousers and get a hold of yourself!"

Sirius stared at his blue-skinned friend for a second.

"Okay, okay, James…but you owe me!" he declared, as he unzipped himself. "Although how you expect me to get hard around here…Well, hello, Emmy!"

"What? Emmy? Where?"

Sirius pointed towards the Mirror of Erisid. "Right there…in that picture frame. She's with Lil…erm…a few of her friends…and I'm there too, except that I'm starkers, and they're starkers…and they're….."

James turned towards the mirror and frowned. "I see Emmy and Lily, alright, but they're with me, and …oh Hell!"

"What?"

"Read the Bloody inscription, Mate!" James hissed. "This thing shows you what you most desire."

"Really?" asked Sirius. "So why is Emmy in the mirror when you look at it?"

"Never mind," James scowled. "Why is my wife _naked_ in the mirror when you look at it?"

"Well, you gotta admit…." Sirius replied, as he returned his gaze to the mirror. "Sweet Morgana! Now they're….."

"They're what?" growled an increasingly territorial demi-demon.

"Erm…nothing…nothing at all," Sirius quickly replied. "So why don't you go check on that Troll for a few moments?"

"Why?"

"Because…well…I love you, man, but….you don't want to stand there and watch me…do you?"

"What?" James roared. "You're going to grab the griffon in front of the mirror…what do you see in it?"

"Do you want my wanking energy or not?" asked Sirius.

His demonic friend scowled and stomped out of the room, crushing bits of debris with every frustrated footstep.

"Just be quick about it!" he shouted back.

Sirius smiled as he stood in front of the mirror, opened his robes, and dropped his trousers. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be anything other than a quick rub if Emmy Vance and the hot new female Arithmancy professor were going to keep taking turns deep-throating his reflective alter-ego.

"If only I could figure out a way to remember this scene," he muttered.

James' enhanced hearing picked up this comment from outside of the room. He shook his head, and said to himself, "No way in hell, my friend."

**oo00OO00ooo**

An Auror Captain who was not even a little horny stepped out of the floo later that night, and directly into the arms of both wives. Their children and guests had already retired, allowing the two witches to ask openly for details beyond the brief and cryptic message that had been delivered by _Patronus_ spell. There were just as quick to worry once privacy wards were set up, and a full accounting was provided of what had taken place…both on the third floor of Hogwarts castle, and later, in the Headmaster's Office.

"And you're certain that this spirit was Voldemort's?" Emmy asked.

"It claimed to be," James replied. "And Dumbledore was quick to concur after the fact."

"And you are certain that this spirit saw you in a transformed state?" asked Lily.

James nodded. "No doubt there…and since it escaped…and is out there someplace…"

"Is it capable of revealing the secret?"

"Probably…assuming that it can find somebody else to possess."

Lily gasped. "So…?"

"So we've got to be ready to move on a moment's notice, and to be more proactive in our planning."

Emmy nodded. "And that's why you agreed to help Dumbledore with the cover-up? To get his support for the reform bill on werewolf rights?"

"Yes," James admitted. "As much as I wanted to throw Snivellous's arse in Azkaban, or drive Dumbledore out of the Headmaster's position."

"Do you think he already knows about you and Harry?" asked Emmy.

James shook his head. "The negotiations would have gone far differently if he had. I'd already fed off of Sirius's tug and fully transformed back by the time Dumbledore showed up."

"But maybe he suspects…given the generic language in your bill about those with non-human heritage?"

"I don't know," James replied. "I was quite clear in linking my bill with Remus's condition, though."

"Speaking of friends," said Lily, "what about Sirius?"

"Back to being blissfully ignorant," James snorted. "Though it really killed him to ask to be memory charmed this time…claimed that it was the most memorable wank of his life."

"Eeew," said Emmy. "Rubbing one off with a dead body right there? No doubt memorable, but who would want to remember something like that?"

"This is Sirius we're talking about, right?" snarked Lily.

"Give him a break," asked James. "I'm sure it was what he was perving on within the mirror that had him so revved up."

"What mirror?"

"And what was he seeing that had him so excited?"

James shook his head as he described the workings of the Mirror of Erised, and what his friend had claimed he had seen.

Neither Emmy nor Lily were happy with their alleged roles in Sirius's pervy fantasies. Their husband was just as unhappy…although he was quick to declare that he had seen them in the mirror as well…and claim that any red-blood heterosexual man (or demon) would have reason to view them as most desirable.

Emmy and Lily were quick to disagree.

A surge of the demon inside James allowed him to prove the point (at least for himself), as he threw a wife over each shoulder, and carried them off to bed.

**oo00OO00ooo**

The Head of Gryffindor House assigned herself the task of traveling to Hogsmeade to facilitate Hermione's return to Hogwarts one week later. When she arrived, Minerva was surprised to discover that the entire Potter family and her young charge had already been in and around the all-magical village for a couple of hours.

She was even more surprised at Hermione Granger's attire, but decided not to press for details as the younger witch made some reluctant good-byes to her adopted "magic" family. It was only after promises were made to get together during the Christmas holidays that the young witch joined her Transfiguration professor in a horseless carriage for the short ride back to Hogwarts.

The barrage of questions that Minerva had anticipated didn't occur, as the First-Year student's host family had been kept her reasonably well informed about issues like the DADA professor who had allegedly taken a "prolonged" leave of absence (and the Auror named Shacklebolt who had since taken his place). The Assistant Headmistress therefore used the privacy provided by the carriage ride to get an explanation about the new Granger family crest, and to caution the young girl on the need to keep confidences.

There was no disagreement on that last point.

When they arrived at the castle, McGonagall escorted her young charge directly to the Infirmary, as Madame Pomfrey had insisted on a medical examination first thing back. The Matron was in the middle of a potions inventory.

"Ah, Miss Granger…good timing, as I'm fresh out of injured students right now."

Minerva looked at a wall clock and nodded.

"There's just a few hours before curfew…"

"This shouldn't take that long," Poppy noted. "But if it does….I'll send along a note, and ensure that Miss Granger is safely returned to the Tower."

The Assistant Headmistress accepted this response with a smile, told Hermione that she looked forward to seeing her in class the next morning, and took her leave.

"Let's have our chat back in my office," Poppy told the younger witch. "Unless you'd rather pop up on a bed?"

Hermione shook her head, and followed the Matron's lead. She sat stiffly in an offered chair (once it had been cleared of a stack of administrative parchments), and politely declined the offer of tea.

The young witch didn't relax until Poppy pulled the curtains on the window that looked back into the larger room and cast a series of silencing charms on the walls, ceiling, and floor.

"There…that should keep the grass from growing where it shouldn't," Poppy declared. "So how did it go, Hermione?….I hope you don't mind if I call you that in private…"

"Oh, not at all, Madame Pomfrey."

"Then you must do the same, and call me Poppy…at least in private," the Matron replied brightly. "We could well be spending a fair bit of time together, keeping Harry out of harm's way."

"Out of harm's way? Do you think that's actually possible?"

Poppy sighed.

"Fair enough…so, I had lunch with Lily yesterday, and she brought me up to speed. Anything significant happen since then?"

Hermione chewed on her lower lip.

"I don't think so…Mr. Potter ran one more check of my Occlumency barriers this morning, and Sirius Black and I finished up our…a…project. But other than that…after we dropped my mum at the train station this afternoon, the Potters took me to Diagon Alley and then to Hogsmeade."

"Bit of shopping, Dear?"

The young witch nodded. "It was really nice of them…took me out to lunch and dinner, and they introduced me to everyone we met along the way."

"With or without a cloak covering up that new crest on your sleeve?"

Hermione smiled. "With…but my new cloak has the same trimmings," she admitted. "Mr. Potter said that it would have been just as easy to place an advert in the newspapers about my family's new status…I don't think he cares for shopping very much."

"Is there a man that does? So you do know, then…that you and I are the only ones inside the castle besides Harry to know of his condition?"

"Yes, Matro….Poppy."

"Would you like some help sorting things out with him, then?"

"I…I think that I need to do that myself," said the young witch. "Don't know how I'll be able to get through some of it without dying from embarrassment, but…_Gryffindors Forward_, right?"

The Hogwarts Matron nodded. "Is there anything else I can do, then?"

Hermione sighed. "Well…Lily and Emmy were very…erm…pretty frank and…detailed…in their descriptions."

"Oh, really? About what?"

"About what happens when Harry…or their husband…changes. And what they to do to reverse those changes…and what they do to keep from changing out of the blue."

"Or from changing into blue?"

Hermione's lips formed a rueful smile.

"I didn't known at first whether to laugh, cry, or commiserate when Lily and Emmy told me about Harry's and his father's…needs. The only thing worse would have been if my mum had been part of that little chat."

"But neither of your parents know, right…since they can't do Occlumency?"

"That's right. Still…the whole idea sounds voyeuristic, and pervy, and…and surreal."

"Surreal?"

"It means that I can hardly believe it."

"I know what it means, Hermione…just didn't expect that adjective to be part of a eleven-year old's vocabulary."

"Well, I am twelve, actually…and I do read books."

"Of course, Dear. So what bothered you the most?"

"The part about Harry…knowing," Hermione admitted. "That he knows when his mums have sex, or when they….whenever they…."

The bushy-haired witch's eyes got big when she remembered something.

"He knows when you…too!"

"When anyone does, actually."

"But he was joking with you about it when he brought me here right after the troll."

Poppy shrugged. "Given the situation, better to laugh than cry."

"But Harry's only eleven, and you are….erm…older than eleven."

"True enough," Poppy admitted. "But Harry has always been mature for his age, and given things…he's never acted like a normal school boy when it comes to...sexual matters."

"Still, he's going to know…I mean, really _know_…." Hermione fretted.

Poppy asked if, looking back over the first two months of term, and knowing what she now knew about Harry's condition, Hermione thought that he'd ever acted inappropriately. The young witch thought for a moment, then shook her head; while Harry was far more comfortable with hugs or other "innocent" forms of physical contact than a normal eleven-year old boy, there hadn't been anything strange or deviant about his actions (or reactions).

At least as far as Hermione knew. She then reluctantly explained that she hadn't yet been in a…position…to offer up any energy to Harry.

This admission brought a smile to the Matron's lips.

"Nothing wrong with that, Dear, given your age."

"But there are some my age who are…so isn't there…can't you…when I do begin to…can't I just block him or shield him from knowing?"

The sympathetic witch thought for a moment, then snorted.

"Well, there is a way to discharge that energy, once it's generated…if that's what you mean?"

"How?"

"Filling canisters," Poppy replied. "Didn't Emmy or Lily go over that with you?"

Hermione shook her head. "They talked about Harry's inhaler, and what it contains, but not how those canisters are filled…but maybe…"

"What's that?"

"The canisters!" Hermione replied. "I hadn't thought of it before, but if I…when I…eventually…rub…I could put what I created in a canister…I wouldn't have that energy clinging to me the next morning…or whenever. And Harry wouldn't be able to tell!"

"That's true, but…"

"And then, I could give the canisters to you, and if he couldn't tell who had filled them….he can't can he?"

"Apparently not, although he likes to joke about different flavors."

"So then that's the way that I could…you know…without Harry knowing!"

The Hogwarts Matron sighed, and placed a sympathetic hand on the younger witch's knee.

"Hermione…that might not be the best path forward, at this point."

"Really?" the bushy-haired witch asked. "Why not?"

"Perhaps when you are older…?"

"So Harry can only use energy from older people?"

"No, Dear…I was saying you might want to wait a few years before you try to charge canisters for Harry."

"Why?"

"Because…"

Madame Pomfrey was unsure just how she could best satisfactorily explain things in an age-appropriate manner…without embarrassing herself too much. The nurse was sympathetic, but worried that the inquisitive witch was going to continue to pester her for a full explanation. Hermione's statement about "Gryffindors Forward!" then rang in her ears, and Poppy reminded herself that she had once resided in the Lion's Tower, too.

So, she opened a locked desk drawer, and pulled out a very thick, flesh-colored twelve-inch long dildo.

"Because that's the charging device, Hermione."

The preteen's eyebrows disappeared under her bushy bangs as she examined the magically modified sex toy.

"Eeep!"

Poppy snorted as Hermione's gaze flittered…from dildo…to Poppy's face…to Poppy's lap…back to the dildo…then down to her own lap…

"How does it work?" the young witch finally whispered.

"Well, Dear…you find a private place and time, then apply a liberal amount of lubricant…"

"Not that," Hermione squeaked. The blush on her cheeks was turning quite dark when she added, "I meant…how does the charging process work? Where is the canister?"

The nurse turned the dildo sideways, then leaned forward in her chair so that Hermione could be given a close-up view.

"I don't know how Lily did the Charms work," Poppy admitted. "But see here…there's a little door at the bottom that opens up, so that you can pop the canisters in and out…would you like to try it yourself?"

Hermione's voice broke once more as she leaned back into her chair and shook her head.

"No, that's alright, Poppy, I believe you."

The flustered young witch then asked, "Does it come in different sizes?"

The Matron chuckled as she slipped the dildo back inside her locked desk drawer.

"I don't know, Hermione. The canisters have to fit both the charger and Harry's inhaler device. Shall I ask Lily the next time I see her, or can it wait until Holidays when you could ask her yourself?"

The twelve-year old witch shook her head.

"No, thank you," she replied quickly. "I don't think that I'm…ready…rather deal with the embarrassment…"

"I thought as much," the Matron sympathetically replied. She then let out a deep breath and added, "It must be hard for you…much easier for me to compartmentalize the embarrassment because of the age difference, and my position as Harry's Healer…"

"But I do want to help Harry," Hermione declared. "Maybe not that way…not right now, but it's so…maybe it'd be different if we weren't the same age?"

"Ah, yes…I guess that it is easier for me and Harry's mothers because we aren't interested in him romantically."

"But, I'm not interested in him that way," Hermione declared, trying to convince herself that was indeed the case.

"No worries," Poppy replied. "No reason why you should even think about that at your age, just because you know that…and he knows that you know…say, now there's something!"

"What?"

"Something that might help, Dear," said Poppy. "Harry is always going to know when somebody…anybody…whips up some orgasmic energy. Whether it's you, or me, or the Headmaster…"

"Eeeew…"

"Exactly. The difference between us and the Headmaster…or Professor Snape…or Mister Filch…"

"Eeeeeeeeew!"

The Matron laughed at the sought-after reaction.

"There, you see?" she asked. "Put yourself in Harry's shoes…not easy for him, either."

"But we know that he knows when we…do it," said Hermione.

"Exactly," Poppy replied. "So you feel vulnerable…but so does Harry, because he knows that you know that he knows."

"What?"

"It comes down to mutual trust, Dear," the older witch explained. "For all of the joking, I know Harry isn't going to hurt me by speaking out of turn. And you can trust that he won't hurt you that way as well. Because he has to trust that you aren't going to blab his secrets any more than he will blab about yours."

"So, if he sees me that way…some day…and I don't freak out about it?"

"He's going to be reminded of just how vulnerable he is…and how much he trusts you."

"Hmmm…so he's not going to tease me at all?"

"Erm, that might be going a bit too far," Poppy admitted. "Harry is an amazing young man…but he is still a lad, right?"

"I guess….he wasn't shy about teasing you."

"Just trust that if he does, that it'll be in private…and it will only be because he trusts you."

Hermione thought for a moment.

"That makes sense."

"Good," said Poppy. "Just remember that the teasing can go both ways as easily as the trust."

The young witch snorted. "So what am I going to tease him about? The only thing that I can think of are the size of his…but I couldn't…and he'll eventually…they'll eventually grow, right? And it's not like I've fully matured…at least I hope not? And the only reason that I know that he is still…that way…was because he was saving my life, and so…"

"Slow down," Poppy asked. "I agree that there are things that you don't tease your friends about. All men are rather sensitive about those sorts of things. That said…"

The sentence-interrupting thought game to the Matron's mind when she spied the Potter crest embroidered onto the sleeve of Hermione's school robes. She smiled, and declared, "I've got an idea."

**oo00OO00ooo**

A crowded Gryffindor Common Room was waiting for Hermione when she gave the Fat Lady the correct password and crawled through the portal. Harry was there, and was quick to pull her into a welcoming hug. The young witch would have prolonged the embrace, which was far tighter than a "normal" eleven-year old boy might normally provide. But Daphne Greengrass and the Weasley Twins were right behind Harry, and the boys had been quick to notice the new adornments on the sleeves of Hermione's robes.

"What's that?" asked Fred. "A new family crest?"

"That's right," Hermione said with a smile. "For the Granger clan…its _Quarterly gules and or, in the first quarter…."_

"And in the last quarter, the crest of Clan Potter?" asked Daphne, as she compared Hermione's crest to the one sewn onto Harry's robes.

The demi-demon's eyes went wide as he took hold of the sleeve closest to him.

"I didn't know that you were going to become…"

"Adopted into the Potter family?" Fred asked brightly.

"Oh, no, I couldn't become Harry's sister," Hermione replied with grin. "After all, it's only in certain Pureblood families that brothers and sisters get married."

"Wha…married?" Harry gasped.

Hermione smiled brightly at the befuddled wizard, and grasped the hand that had been tugging on her sleeve with her own.

"Oh, I'm sorry, beloved," she cooed. "I'm getting ahead of myself…your father and mine are still hammering out the details of the marriage contract. So technically, for the next few weeks, instead of being my husband, you are just my…"

Harry waited for Hermione to finish her sentence. And then lost all patience.

"I'm your what?"

The Muggleborn witch waggled her eyebrows, leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Why, sweetheart…right now you're my prank victim!"

A roar of laughter erupted, when those who had been following the conversation realized just how well Harry had been punked.

"Oh….Harry….the look on your face!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Ha, ha…very funny," he scowled. "So…if you're not my betrothed…just yet…then your dad's aligned your family with mine?"

The bushy-haired witch nodded, and bowed stiffly from the waist.

"Exactly, Milord."

"Right. You will stop right now with the Milords."

"Yes, Milord," Hermione teased. She then sat down in one of the comfortable couches and began to pull school books out from her bag.

"Why don't you run up and get your assignments for tomorrow, Harry?" she asked. "We've only a few hours before bed, and we need to level the playing field, and I need to make sure that I have everything _covered tonight_."

The emphasis on Hermione's last two words should have been sufficient for Harry to cotton on to what she was requesting. But he was too busy wondering what she meant by leveled playing fields, forcing his friend to pull him into a hug and whisper a more plain-spoken request into his ear.

He nodded, then quickly headed up the stairs to retrieve both his homework and his invisibility cloak.

**oo00OO00ooo**

A few hours later, Harry Potter found himself lying in bed, with the lights out and with a lot on his mind. His musings were interrupted by a sliver of faint light that penetrated the darkness as an invisible hand pulled back the bed curtains. He couldn't have seen much of that hand even if it had been visible, since his glasses were sitting on the table next to his bed…but that was remedied just as soon as the curtains fell back and a silencing charm was applied.

Hands reached out to delineate the outline of a blanket-covered body, so that knees didn't land in sensitive places as someone settled into the space between Harry and the far side of the bed.

"Hermione?"

"Expecting somebody else?"

"No, but…just can't see…"

"Ah, just a second," replied the bushy-haired witch. She placed a hand on Harry's chest, dragged it up towards his head, and, once she identified the location of his face, propped his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Thanks, Bach," he quipped. "Now I can clearly see what I can't see in the dark."

"I can help there as well."

When Harry heard the "swoosh" of an unfastened cloak he asked, "You are wearing something under that….right?"

His guest giggled as she cast a wandless spell and produced a small ball of blue flames. Hermione was wearing a scoop-necked cotton nightgown that was just long enough to cover her knees as she sat cross-legged.

"What's the matter, Harry…were you hoping that I'd be starkers when I joined you in bed?"

"Well, no….or…except that you did say we needed to level the playing field…"

"Ah…so since I saw your bits when the troll attacked, you figured that I'd let you see mine?"

"No…"

"Because if that's what you think, then…"

Harry reached out and took his friend's hands in his own.

"You're having me on, again…right?"

"What…you mean you don't want to see me?" she asked. "I know I don't have much to show yet…especially compared with some of the older years, but that'd be the point…"

"Hermione …I wouldn't want you to show me just because you feel you need to."

"Well that's good, because giving you a pervy show wasn't what I had in mind."

"Oh …good then. Not that I'd have perved on…hey!"

"What?"

"Does that mean you were perving on me when you saw my bits?"

"Geez, of all the… I'll admit that I'm pretty good at multi-tasking. But honestly, Harry…between the Mountain Troll, and seeing the tentacles and horns pop out, where do you think my eyes were focused?"

"Fair enough. So about that last part… don't know how much my mums or dad have told you…"

"Enough to know why you just said 'mums' plural."

"Really? I was thinking more about how much you know about my…background."

Hermione switched the blue-bell flame to her right hand so that she could lean forward and touch Harry's shoulder with her left.

"Stop right there, Mister. You will not apologize for your heritage…you didn't get to choose your parents, and there's nothing demonic about you. And if you hadn't been born that way then I'd be dead right now, so…"

The little speech that Hermione had been practicing for the past week was interrupted by her realization that she was unknowingly giving Harry a view down her shirt.

She blushed, lifted his chin with a finger so that his eyes once again met hers, and asked, "Have you heard anything that I've just said?"

The black-haired wizard matched Hermione's blush with the realization that he'd been caught out.

"Erm, sorry…yeah, I was listening…but I…I was…"

"Perving on me?"

"Erm, no…I really was listening to you…it's not my fault that I was born this way, and the tentacles do come in handy sometimes, right?"

Hermione snorted. "So was that the Shikima that was just trying to perv on my itty bitty baps, or the eleven year-old boy?"

"Why would you think that it's either or? Or that your baps are itty bitty, for that matter?"

Harry's bushy-haired friend shook her head as she sat up. She would never admit that she was more than a bit pleased by his interest.

"Pushing on…," she said, trying to work out in her mind how to steer the discussion back closer to her plans. "I've had some time to think about this situation…it might be easier if you and I really were engaged…"

"Or even just boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"Yeah, that too," Hermione admitted. "But the thing is…I'm only twelve, and you're only eleven, and…we're just kids still. And I don't know what to make of the fact that at some point you're going to need to have more than one girlfriend…or at least, more than one girl at a time, and…"

"Not now, though…"

"But what happens when your hormones do kick in?" Hermione asked. "Your parents are brilliant…all three of them…and it's obvious they all love each other, but…I'm only…and thinking about sharing you with Daphne…and it's certain you'll need more than two witches warming your bed at first…"

"What's this about Daphne? We're just friends, Hermione…honest."

"Really?" asked Hermione. "Your sisters were certain they saw a bit more than just friends at the match."

"Nah…she might have been a bit clingy after I caught her mid-air…"

"You mean like how I was a bit clingy after the troll?"

"That's right."

"So does that mean that we're just friends as well?"

"Hermione!

"Sorry…that was a bit unfair. I guess that I just don't know if I'm interested in joining your harem down the road, whether Daphne is in it or not."

"Even if you were the primary wife?" Harry teased.

"Well, if that were the case….but let's get back on topic."

"Fair enough. So…about you getting naked…"

"Harry!"

"Ok, back to you _not_ getting naked…I mean, if you're not joining my harem tonight, then what _are_ your plans for leveling our playing field?"

"Actually, my plans are to point out that I consider the playing fields to already be more than leveled."

"Really?"

Hermione nodded. "Thing is …I've seen your bits, but now…I know that you're always going to know _wheneverIplaywithmine_."

Harry frowned as he tried to work through the rushed run-on sentence.

"I'll know when you play with your…?"

Hermione was too shy and too embarrassed by her statement to help him along, and her cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red when she saw the proverbial light bulb appear above her friend's head.

"Oh, yeah, well, I guess, but…hasn't been an issue yet…right?"

"Harry!"

"What?"

"The fact that you know enough to make that statement just proves my point!"

"Erm, yeah…guess it does," he sheepishly admitted.

**oo00OO00ooo**

Hermione let out a sigh a relief once she stepped out into the stairway and closed the door to the Harry's dorm room behind her…happy not so much that she'd escaped his bed without being detected, as that she'd escaped from their conversation without too much embarrassment.

That she still needed to focus on stealth was driven home when she tripped on the dragging hem of the adult-sized invisibility cloak and had to brace a hand against the wall to avoid tumbling down the stairwell. The sight of that disembodied hand and forearm dangling beyond the cloak's sleeve caused the bushy-haired witch to gasp, and then to worry about the fact that while she couldn't be seen, she still could be heard. She quickly withdrew her hand, sat down on the stairs, and huddled underneath the cloak.

The First Year witch thought about what had just been said while she waited anxiously to see if she'd been heard. Both Harry and she had been eager to change the subject away from his awareness of her levels of sexual activity. She not only gave Harry a full accounting of her two-week stay with his parents, but gave Harry the real story his father's encounter with Voldemort/Quirrell (something that Harry's parents couldn't, for obvious reasons, provide using owl post).

That the Potter family had shared this story, and many of their secrets with Hermione had provoked all kinds of emotions within the young witch…appreciation that she was being trusted to keep these confidences, fear that her newly gained Occlumency shields wouldn't be strong enough to protect the secrets…but above all, embarrassment over knowing that Harry's demon side would always know when she successfully masturbated.

Or when she didn't, for that matter. If the gossip was to be believed, there were plenty of Gryffindor girls who were rubbing off, or doing things with their boyfriends…so would Harry always think of her as a little girl in comparison?

Poppy's comments earlier that evening about mutual trust were ignored as she considered her present circumstances…in the boys' dormitories, under an invisibility cloak. A girl could easily take advantage of the situation…

The idea was shot down quickly, not just by the potential embarrassment if she were caught, but by the risk of losing Harry's cloak to their Head of House…or worse, the Headmaster. So she did the right thing, and quietly slipped down the stairs towards the Common Room.

Where she discovered that doing the right thing sometimes pays off.

Giggles, moans, and whispered admonishments were coming from a dark corner of the room. Hermione crouched in the stairwell as she watched two late-night lovers in the dim light of a banked fireplace. The girl was straddling her boyfriend, and riding him hard as he leaned back on a coach. Her robes were bunched at her waist…his trousers were dangling from his ankles.

Putting names to faces would have been a futile exercise, since the older girl's bared back was towards the stairs, and the boy's face was mashed up against his girlfriend's baps.

Hermione bit her lip as she watched the scene play out. It would have been completely out of bounds for her to have used the cloak to seek out a voyeuristic opportunity within the boys' dormitory. But here…in the Gryffindor Common Room?

Invisible knees parted, and invisible fingers moved into place as an invisible witch rationalized…rationalized that, given the circumstances, watching wasn't morally wrong…it was instructional.

And inspirational, too.

**oo00OO00ooo**

She didn't look any different in the bathroom mirror.

"C'mon Hermione…we'll miss breakfast."

"I'll be right there, Lavender."

A mass of unmanageable brown hair bounced back and forth as Hermione shook her head and tried to will the blush from appearing on her cheeks. She briefly considered feigning illness…Lily and Emmy had informed Hermione that the energy generated by orgasmic release dissipated after a few days. So all she had to do was stay away from Harry, and he wouldn't be able to tell…until the next time.

But that was the problem. Hermione was certain that there would be a next time…sometime. Not just because she'd be helping Harry, but _because it felt so bloody fantastic_.

"So I guess that it's time to see if Madame Pomfrey's advice bears out," she told herself. "Time to face Harry with my chin up and my shoulders back!"

And if this meant that she'd have the baps that Harry described as not-so-itty-bitty thrust out, so much the better.

**oo00OO00ooo**

Harry smiled when he heard a distinct laugh echo down the stairs and into the Common Room.

"Finally," he muttered, as he rolled up a partially-finished letter and pushed it into his bag.

Parvati and Lavender emerged from the stairwell arm in arm.

"Good Morning, Harry," they said in unison.

"Geez, you two…are you sure that you're not the twin sister, Lavender?"

The blonde haired witch giggled as she playfully swatted his arm.

"Oh, you…although…that would make things seem naughtier when the two of us have our wicked way with you."

Harry shook his head and snorted. The two friends had been far more flirtier with him over the past week, and Lavender had more than once unknowingly transferred some energy.

"What's gotten into you two?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," Parvati replied.

"Unfortunately," added Lavender.

"You know what I mean."

Parvati was unapologetic.

"Well, now that Hermione is back in school…with you being both Daphne's and Hermione's Champion, how else are we going to catch your eye?"

"Fall off a broom?" Harry quipped.

"Flirting sounds safer…and more fun," observed Lavender.

"So where are the other two?"

"Should be down…Hermione is running…ah, there they are. Finally!"

A closed-lip smile had already formed on Harry's face as he turned in the direction of Parvati's gaze. This meant that his sharp intake of breath had to loudly travel through his nose when he spotted Hermione coming out of the stairwell.

The bushy-haired witch flashed a bright toothy smile as she walked towards the demi-demon with a cloud of orgasmic energy surrounding a head held high.

"Something wrong, Harry?" she asked.

The young wizard shook his head. "Oh, no…nothing at all. Just surprised."

"Yes, well, sorry…I know that I'm usually the first one down, but it's been a couple of weeks, and…"

"No worries, Bach," Harry replied, using a voice that was in danger of cracking.

Daphne and Hermione had crossed over to the doorway, and were within arm's reach of the other three. The Muggleborn witch was staring at Harry just as intently as he was at her, so neither one really heard Parvati and Lavender giggling.

"So, Harry," Hermione asked, "are you…._hungry_?"

The demi-demon choked on the double entendre, then managed to answer correctly on both counts.

"Erm…yes?"

"Me too," interrupted Lavender. "So can we go, then?"

Harry and Hermione both chuckled, and nodded in agreement. They let the other three go through the portal first, but any plans on a private conversation were thwarted when Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan came down the stairs.

Which was just as well, from Hermione's perspective. She simply smiled, and quietly held out a bare hand.

He stared at that hand for a moment, then looked up and arched an eyebrow.

"Go on, then," Hermione whispered.

He nodded, then turned slightly so that only Hermione could see his eyes flash when we reached out and squeezed her fingers.

"Thanks," he whispered back. "Thanks…for everything."

Hermione smiled as she pulled her hand back, then used it to punch him in the arm.

"C'mon…before Lavender and Parvati start gossiping about us."

"You mean gossip any more than they already are, Bach?"

The bushy-haired witch snorted, and shook her head. They then let the somewhat awkward conversation drop as they rushed to catch up with their other friends.

**oo00OO00oo**

Hermione Granger continued to hold her head high as they walked into the Great Hall…but now it was to keep from dwelling on what had happened the last time that she had entered that specific part of the castle. The young witch had fully expected that she'd be the center of attention after the pranks, the troll, and her two-week absence, so she was surprised when there was no collective gasp, and all eyes didn't immediately turn towards her. Puzzled, she glanced towards her house table and immediately noticed that many of her classmates were wearing dark sunglasses. Her curiosity was further piqued when Harry touched his wand tip to his glasses and darkened the lenses.

"So…is anyone going to tell me why everyone is wearing sunglasses?"

As they found seats next to Fred and George at the end of the Gryffindor table, the Girl-Who-Lived pulled a spare pair from a pocket, handed them to her friend, and said, "We're wearing them to protect our eyes from the sun."

"And why would you need that kind of protection inside the castle?"

"Because we're facing the Slytherin table, of course."

Hermione's follow-up questions were interrupted by a very loud (and very timely) trumpeting of gas and a blinding flash of light. Harry grinned, and stood halfway up so that he could look over the top of the adjacent table. His chucking added to the peals of laughter that had broken out within the Great Hall.

"Looks like it was Flint," he noted. He turned towards the Weasley Twins, who both shook their heads.

"Good then…better odds for the rest of us."

Hermione turned towards the Slytherin table and stared at the red-faced Quidditch captain. He was easy to spot, since his housemates were grabbing their plates and giving him (and his stink) a wide berth. She then glanced up at the Professor's table, where Severus Snape was fuming and a few of his colleagues were holding back grins.

"Harry…what haven't you told me about what I've missed?" the bushy-haired witch asked, as she turned back towards her friend.

"Oh, not much," he replied brightly. "Just that…for the past week, the Slytherins have been proving just how highly they think of themselves."

A frown crept onto the young witch's face as she considered Harry's response.

"Hey, Hermione," asked Daphne Greengrass. "Do you know what you get when you cross a _Lumos _spell with a flatulence potion and tie it to mealtimes in the Great Hall?"

The question allowed the brown-haired witch to finally put all of the pieces of the puzzle together. Her frown immediately turned upside-down.

"Prank victims who can prove that the sun really does shine out of their arses?"

"Right in one."

Hermione let out a hearty, therapeutic laugh.

"Oh, Harry…you…you didn't!"

"Not as far as anyone can prove," he replied brightly. "Of course, that didn't stop Snape from giving me detentions four nights in a row last week."

"Us too," added Fred, with mock lament. "Oh, the injustice of it all!"

"Not that we haven't profited from the situation, mind you," his brother added, as he noticed a sixth-year Hufflepuff walking up to the table.

"Hey," he whispered. "Pansy Parkinson is still in the game, right? What kind of odds can I get on her?"

The red-haired wizard smiled and replied, "Well…had been five to one, but know that Flint is out of the running…what do you say, Fred?"

George's brother glanced up at the Head Table, then discretely pulled a parchment scroll from his robe pocket and unrolled it.

"Well…just eight left, but…I reckon we could give you six to one…Marcus was a popular pick."

"Great…put a galleon down on Pansy for me," the boy replied, as he passed a coin into George's hand.

George nodded, wrote the wager down on the parchment, then tipped his imaginary cap.

"Good luck, Guv'nor…pleasure doing business with you."

His brother and he had enough business acumen to wait until the boy was back at his table before they smiled at each other and muttered (in stereo), "Sucker!"

Hermione gave the Twins a fish eye.

"Just having a bit of fun," George said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Is it too much to ask for details?" she quietly asked.

Daphne chuckled, and took the lead on explaining the Twins' latest business venture.

"Somebody pranked the entire Slytherin house," she began to explain. "Nobody has been able to come up with an antidote, but since it appears to be a one-time occurrence for each person, nobody has been spending a whole lot of time on a cure for blinding farts."

"At least not outside of Slytherin House," Harry chimed in.

"So the wagering?" asked Hermione.

"On who is the last to blast."

Hermione marveled at the scheme. "And the professors haven't stopped the bets?"

"Why would they?" George asked. "Especially if some of them have a financial interest involved?"

"Not that we would ever betray the trust placed in us by our _(cough) McGonagall (cough) _clients,_" _added Fred.

Hermione thought for a moment while she nibbled on a piece of toast.

"So…you've been having great fun at the Slytherin's expense, then?"

Harry nodded. "Worked out brilliantly…it's all anyone has talked about the past week…instead of the Halloween Party, or the rescue during the match. Worked better than my wildest dreams…or, I should say… beyond the dreams of the unidentified prankster."

"Or pranksters," added the Girl-Wh0-Lived with a smile.

Hermione looked at the witch sitting across from her as if she'd grown a second head.

"You too?" she whispered.

Daphne responded by coyly smiling into her porridge.

"You guys are the…well, all I can say is thank you," said Hermione.

"Thank us?" Harry asked with a smile. "But we didn't do anything."

"Not as far as you know," Fred added with a wink.

"Of course," replied the bushy-haired witch. "So this is payback for Flying Class, and for the pumpkin projections?"

"Dumbledore seems to think so."

"I'm more interested in what you think, Harry."

The messy-haired demi-demon gave his friend an evil grin.

"So…I hear that you spent some time with my Godfather these past two weeks?"

Hermione decided that it was her turn to wink.

"Not as far as you know."

Harry held his friend's gaze for a few moments, then grinned even more widely.

"So what do you have up your sleeve, Miss Granger?"

His bushy-haired friend shook her head.

"Oh, just the normal number of appendages," she innocently replied, as she stood from the table and shouldered her book bag. "Ready for class, then?"

The Potter scion arched an eyebrow, then let out a hearty laugh as he caught up with his closest friend and confidante.


End file.
